


Somewhere I Belong

by xtremeroswellian



Series: Chosen Family [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Joyce Byers, BAMF Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy eventually gets a bit of redemption, Broken Families, Bullying, But Not For Awhile, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Homophobia, Hurt Max, I DON'T WANT TO TRIGGER ANYONE, I love these kids, If I'm missing a warning please let me know, Loneliness, Lucas Sinclair is a good boyfriend, Max has a special place in my heart though, Max-centric, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Neil Hargrove needs to diaf, Physical Abuse, Post Season 2, Protective Mike Wheeler, Protective Will Byers, Racism, So much angst, Verbal Abuse, also a lot of friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 18:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: After all the drama of the Upside Down wears off, Max is forced to make some tough decisions regarding her dysfunctional family.





	1. Chapter 1

Things settle down in Hawkins as quickly as they took a turn for the bizarre. In a way, it’s good. Will gets better - gains color back in his cheeks, starts eating well again, but he’s still on guard all the time, and it’s not like Max can blame him. Being lost in a creepy ass monster dimension and then being possessed by a creepy ass monster is bound to take its toll on anyone, and Will is a quiet, sensitive kind of guy.

She doesn’t know him that well, but she wants to. She wants to know _all_ of them, but making friends - real ones anyway - has never come easy for her, and this time is no different. This time might actually be more difficult than usual as she’s met with alternating passive and active resistance from one Mike Wheeler. 

Admittedly, after the night she’d threatened Billy’s life with Steve’s bat, then stolen Billy’s camaro and helped set a whole lot of other-worldly plant life on fire to distract demodogs in an effort to help a girl she’d barely met, that resistance had become a lot less active than before. A begrudging nod of the head in greeting when she approached, a reluctant invite - still extended usually by Lucas or Dustin rather than Mike himself - to the next D&D night at his house. A shared tub of popcorn with everyone on movie night. 

There were other things, though. 

She was not asked to go with the group on the biweekly trips to visit Eleven at Hopper’s cabin. She wasn’t asked if she was interested in AV Club. She didn’t go to one of their houses every night after school to work on homework or just hang out. 

She sat with them at lunch most days, but she was constantly aware that she wasn’t really _in_ the party. They were her friends, but she was still as much on the outside as she’s ever been. She tries, repeatedly, to remind herself that these things take time, but at the end of the day most days, she just feels tired. And hurt. And disappointed. 

But most of all, Max feels alone. 

***

“Hi.” 

Max looks up from where she’s sitting outside at one of the picnic tables, book in her hands, to see Lucas standing there. She offers him a small smile. “Hey.” A gust of wind blows her hair into her eyes and she swipes it away absently.

He sits down beside her. “So movie night this week is at my house. You’re coming, right?” 

She gives him a contemplative look. “Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to check my social calendar.” 

He smirks at her. “Pretty busy these days?” 

“Only when I’m fighting demodogs and monster plants.” 

“Hopefully you’ll never have to do that again.” 

“Hopefully _none_ of us will,” she remarks with arched eyebrows. It’s not an experience any of them exactly found enjoyable. Terrifying, yes. Exciting, definitely. But enjoyable...that was a different case.

“Agreed.” He smiles. 

She holds his gaze for a moment, then looks down at her book, dog-earring the page and closing it so she can give him her full attention. Plus, where Lucas is the others are rarely far behind. The time for reading is over. She’s okay with that. It’s not like she doesn’t have plenty of time to read at home when she’s avoiding the rest of her family.

“You ready for the English test?” 

“Yeah. I’m not worried about it,” she says with a shrug. English is one of her best subjects. 

“Not worried about what?” Dustin asks as he plops down across from them, tugging his backpack off. 

“The English test,” Lucas supplies. 

“Son of a bitch.” Dustin makes a face. “I forgot about it.” He heaves a sigh. 

“You read the book though, right?” Max asks him. It had been assigned three weeks ago. Then again, that was right as they were all recovering from other-wordly trauma.

He shrugs. “It wasn’t high on my list of priorities.” 

Fair enough, she thinks.

“Yeah, what? Too busy trying to hit number one on Dig Dug and bump Max out of the lead?” Lucas teases. 

“Hey, any day now. That’s going to happen, asshole.” 

“Good luck with that, Loser.” 

Max rolls her eyes at the two of them. If there’s one thing she’s learned it’s that Dustin and Lucas bicker almost constantly, but it’s generally a harmless kind of bickering. The kind of bickering that old friends do. She wonders what that’s like. Wonders if it’s something she’ll ever experience herself. 

“Hi, Max.” She glances up as Will sets his lunch down on the table across from her, next to Dustin. 

“Hey,” she greets, spotting Mike approaching, too, stormy expression on his face that makes her tense involuntarily. 

“What’s wrong?” Lucas asks as Mike joins them and all eyes turn to him. 

“I’m grounded.” 

“Again?” all three boys say in unison, and a bemused smile touches her mouth at how in sync they are. 

“What’d you do this time?” Dustin asks, popping a french fry into his mouth. 

“Got a detention on Friday for missing class last week,” he grumbles. 

“I told you not to skip,” Lucas points out. 

“Easy for you to say. You get to see Max every day. I get to see El twice a week if I’m lucky.” 

Max feels her cheeks grow warm and Lucas scowls at Mike. 

“How long are you on lockdown this time?” Will asks, and Max can tell he’s doing his best to diffuse the tension. He seems to do that a lot and she thanks him silently. 

“A week. I’m gonna miss movie night. And no campaign this week.” He stabs a green bean with his fork. 

“Least it’s only a week this time,” Dustin says. 

“Yeah. You guys can still come over and do homework, though,,” he tells them, glancing around at his friends. 

“Your mom lets people come over when you’re grounded?” Her eyebrows furrow. That’s not how grounding works in her experience. 

“We’re practically siblings,” Will tells her with a small, faint smile. 

She wonders what it’s like to have a sibling who doesn’t despise you. She _knows_ that’s something she’ll never experience. Oh well. It’s probably overrated anyway, she reasons. 

“You should come, too,” Lucas tells her and automatically her gaze flicks to Mike, who stuffs a bite of meatloaf into his mouth, not looking at her. 

Max glances at Lucas sideways. “Raincheck. I’ve got some stuff to do for my mom after school.” 

He searches her eyes and nods slowly. She feels another set of eyes on her and looks over to see Will gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face that makes her uneasy. 

“Well. I need to hit the library before class. Catch you guys later.” Max rises to her feet, grabbing her book and making a quick exit before anyone can respond. 

Will’s mouth settles into a frown as he watches her go. “She’s upset about something,” he murmurs. 

“I don’t think she really feels welcome at your house,” Lucas tells Mike, who raises his eyebrows. 

“She’s been there before,” he points out. Just once, but still. It counts. 

“Yeah, but…” He shrugs. “I think she still thinks you don’t like her.” 

Mike frowns, but doesn’t argue one way or the other. He likes her better than he used to, but he still doesn’t love that she’s around all the time. Things aren’t the same. 

“You’re still not really including her,” Dustin tells him, taking a bite of his burrito. 

“How is this _my_ fault?” There’s exasperation in his voice. 

“It’s not,” Will assures him. “It’s just an adjustment period for all of us.” Having someone else in the party was definitely new too all of them.

Lucas shakes his head, looking disappointed. “I’m going to class. See you guys later.” He heads away. 

Dustin looks around. “Annnd then there were three.” 

***

“Max! Hey, Max!” 

She’s heading down the sidewalk, backpack slung over her shoulder and skateboard tucked under her arm when she hears Lucas calling for her after the final bell. She turns to see him hurrying to catch up with her, gripping onto the straps of his own backpack. “Hey, Stalker.” 

He smiles at her. “Are you really busy after school? Cause if not, I thought we could hit the arcade for awhile.” 

She arches her eyebrows. “I thought everyone was going to do homework at the Wheeler’s.” It had certainly seemed that way at lunch, anyway.

“Not everyone. You aren’t.” 

She wants to point out she doesn’t count, but she doesn’t. Instead, she studies him for a moment, then finally looks away. “I don’t wanna push it.” 

Lucas frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“With Mike,” she admits.

“Max - “ 

“Look.” Her voice is quiet, more sincere than she usually is. “I know the difference between when someone wants me around and when someone is tolerating my presence.” She’s had a lot of experience differentiating that exact thing, in fact. 

“He’s coming around,” he says just as quietly. 

“I know. I just don’t want to force it, okay? So I think - you should just go to Mike’s so he doesn’t think I’m like, trying to steal his friends away.” So he doesn’t see her as a threat. At least not anymore than he already does. 

He looks crestfallen at her words, so she steps closer and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Maybe we can hit the arcade tomorrow night,” she tells him and his expression brightens. 

“Can I call you later?” he asks hopefully.

She holds her breath, then shakes her head. “I’ll call you, okay?” 

Worry flickers over his face. “Is everything alright? You know, with Billy?” 

“Everything’s fine,” she reassures him. “I just want to keep it that way.” She knows the peace between her and Billy isn’t going to last. She’s not stupid. She knows him too well, and at the end of the day, she knows he’s not really scared of her. Plus it’s not like she has a stock of liquid sedatives and a bat full of nails lying around in her room.

Lucas sighs but nods in agreement. “See you tomorrow then?” 

“Yeah. See you tomorrow,” she responds. 

“Okay. Have a good night, Mad Max.” He grins before turning to head and find the others. 

She watches him go, then sets her taped-back-together skateboard on the ground, hopping on it and speeding toward the parking lot. 

Billy’s leaning against his camaro, cigarette in hand, perpetual glare on his face. “Get in.” 

She barely looks at him as she grabs her board and crawls into the passenger seat of the car. He climbs in a moment later, starting the car and throwing it into reverse before squealing it out out of the parking lot. They’re most of the way home before he speaks. 

“So is that nigger your boyfriend now?” 

She turns her head to glare at him. “Don’t call him that.” Her voice is sharp.

“Nigger? Or boyfriend?” He smirks, speeding the car up and taking a drag off his cigarette. 

Her jaw tightens and she stares out the window, hands clenched into fists. 

“I told you to stop hanging around him.” His voice is even this time, all traces of humor gone. 

“He’s my friend. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. 

He chuckles, low and dark. “Is that right?” He slams on the brakes, jerking the car abruptly off the road and pitching her body up against the door with the suddenness. He throws the car into park and she stares at him, wide-eyed and then glances at the door handle, tempted to tug on it and run. 

“My dad put me in charge of you, Maxine. So I’m gonna be a good, responsible brother and make sure your ass stays out of trouble.” 

When she doesn’t respond, he reaches over and grabs her by the collar of her shirt, jerking her closer and shaking her none too gently. “Do you understand me? Do you _understand_ me?” 

“Yes,” she whispers, just wanting him to let go of her. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He shakes her again.

“I said _yes_.” 

Billy smirks and lets her go, turning his attention to driving the car again. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Max. Don’t worry, though. I’ll teach you.” 

She stares out the passenger window, blinking back tears.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Chief, how’s it going?” one of the deputies asks as Hopper snags a donut from the box at the front desk, carefully balancing his coffee in the other hand. 

“Fine,” he grunts, taking a bite of the donut and heading toward his office. 

“Only had one call overnight,” his secretary, Flo, tells him, handing him a note even as she tries to grab the donut out of his hand. He pulls it away, up and out of her reach. 

“Important?” He glances at the note but doesn’t take it even as she frowns at him with clear disapproval. 

Damn woman. 

“Disturbance at the Hargrove place,” she tells him. 

Hopper reaches out and takes the note, heading toward his office. “What kind of disturbance?” All that’s written on the note is the address and the names, along with the time: 1:21 AM. 

“Domestic.” 

Son of a bitch. 

His mouth sets into a hard line and he disappears into his office with a nod. 

***

“Have you guys seen Max yet?” Lucas asks as he meets up with his friends outside the school the next morning. Normally they all ride their bikes together, but he’d come to school early to work on an essay at the library. Sometimes having a little sister was a real pain in the ass, and sometimes it just made it hard to concentrate on anything serious at home. 

“No, but we just got here.” Mike glances around and then lifts his hand in a wave when he spots Will heading toward them. 

Lucas and Dustin wave, too, and Lucas can’t help but feel relief at how much more normal their friend looks these days. Like himself again. And the episodes he’d had off and on for the last year seem to be gone, thankfully. 

“Hey guys,” Will greets them, turning to wave at Jonathan, who was watching to make sure he made it up to the school before driving off. 

“Shit. I’m not ready for this history test,” Dustin groans as the school bus arrives with more students ready to start their day. 

“We studied until almost ten. You’ll do fine,” Will tells him. 

He makes a face. “It’s my worst subject. Why can’t we have a science test, instead?” A couple of students walk by and overhear, giving him an odd look. He flips them off. 

Lucas rolls his eyes and watches the parking lot for the familiar blue camaro. 

“Relax, she’ll be here,” Mike tells him, shaking his head. “They’re probably just running late because her brother’s worrying about his hair.” 

“Stepbrother,” Lucas corrects. 

“Whatever.” 

Dustin looks between them. “You think she’s okay, right?” There’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice. 

That uncertainty sets Lucas further on edge. “Of course she’s all right.” His tone is sharp. 

Will’s expression is troubled, but he remains silent. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Mike says earnestly, looking around at his friends. “Or maybe she just came down with the flu or something.” 

Lucas isn’t convinced, but the warning bell rings and he heaves a sigh, looking toward the parking lot once more. 

“We should get going,” Mike tells them. “Before we’re late. I’m sure she’ll be in second period.” 

“Yeah, she’s Mad Max. She’ll be here,” Dustin agrees, turning to head toward the school. 

Lucas follows his friends, but he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. And by the look on Will’s face, he knows he agrees. 

***

Sure enough, when he makes it to their second period science class, Max is already in her seat near the back of the room. She’s slumped a little, face paler than usual and Lucas frowns deeply. “Hey. You okay? We waited for you before school, but then the warning bell rang. We thought maybe you were sick or something.” 

Or something much worse, he thinks, struggling to push that thought away. He studies her closely as she answers. 

“I’m fine. I was up late studying for the history test.” There’s something in her voice - something flat and disconnected that sends a chill down his spine. “I woke up late.” 

“Oh. I wish you’d come over to Mike’s. We were studying for it, too.” 

“Of course you were.” 

Lucas isn’t sure what to think of the hint of bitterness he hears. “Are we still on for the arcade tonight?” 

Max blinks a couple of times, almost like she’s startled out of her own head at the question. “Sure thing, Stalker.” 

He relaxes a little at the familiar nickname, offering her a smile as the rest of the class starts to filter in. 

“Hey, you’re here,” Dustin exclaims, grinning at her. 

She raises her eyebrows in response, as if to say, ‘Of course. Where else would I be?’ 

Will takes his seat but turns to look at her. “Hi, Max.” 

“Hi,” she greets, not quite looking at Will. 

Mike slides into his seat before the bell rings. “I told you guys she’d be here.” 

“Yeah, you told us,” Lucas murmurs, glancing at her again before falling silent as the bell finally sounds and Mr. Clarke stands up to begin their day’s lesson. 

***

Max sleepwalks through her day, fending off worried looks from Lucas and Will, questions from Dustin and confused glances from Mike. Honestly, she feels like the latter is some weird kind of progress.

She stuffs all the books she doesn’t need to take home in her locker after school, the ones she does need into her backpack, and grabs her skateboard. She doesn’t wait for the others, hoping to escape quickly and avoid more questions. She’ll meet Lucas at the arcade later. After a nap, hopefully. 

Her stomach tightens into a knot, though, when she spots the familiar truck in the parking lot, and worse, the familiar tall man standing beside it. 

Hopper. 

Shit. 

She tells herself he’s not there because of her. He’s probably there to talk to Mike or Will. But as soon as he spots her, he straightens, nodding and motioning to her. Her heart sinks and she swallows hard, tightening her hold on her skateboard and walking toward him as casually as possible. “Chief,” she greets, sounding nonchalant.

He takes his sunglasses off and tucks them into his shirt pocket. “Heard there was some trouble at your place last night. Are you alright?” 

Max quickly glances over her shoulder to make sure no one is close enough to overhear. Especially any of the guys. “My step-dad and Billy got into an argument. They just got a little loud.” 

He studies her intently. Too intently, like he’s looking right through her and seeing the truth. She does her best not to fidget under his scrutinizing gaze. “They argue a lot?” 

“A normal amount, I guess.” 

“What’s a normal amount? 

She falters for a moment, but lowers her voice even though she snaps. “I don’t know. How often do you argue with El?” 

Hopper stares at her and presses his lips together. “I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, Kid.” 

Her jaw tightens. “The only thing that would help is if my mom and dad got back together.” 

Hopper’s expression softens at that, and she hates it. Hates that he’s feeling sorry for her. She shakes her head at him, sets her board on the ground and starts to get on it. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. “I don’t have any control over that, but if someone’s hurting you? I can make them stop.” 

Max scoffs. “Go take care of your own screwed up kid, Chief. I’m fine.” She takes off and doesn’t look back. 

***

“So. How was your day, Maxine?” Neil asks at dinner that night, cutting his pork and taking a bite. 

Her mom smiles gently at her as she takes a bite of her carrots, nodding. 

She wants to tell him that her name is _Max_ \- again - but she doesn’t want to be the cause of another fight. “It was fine. Nothing particularly interesting.” 

“Nothing? Really?” 

She looks across the table at Billy, willing him to shut up. 

“Do you have something to share, Son?” Neil’s voice is tense. 

“Maxine here had a meeting after school with Chief Hopper,” he answers casually and she feels the color drain from her face, but her expression itself gives nothing away. She’s perfected the art of looking nonchalant and unworried under stress. 

Neil turns to look at her, gaze intense. “Is that true?” 

“Yes,” she answers honestly, and her mom tenses beside her stepdad.

“I see. And what did the two of you discuss?” His grip on his drinking glass tightens and for a moment she’s sure it will shatter under his grip. 

“He just asked me about last night. I told him that you and Billy argued and just got a little loud.” The exact thing that her mom had told the deputy not a full twenty-four hours ago. 

Billy glares at her but falls silent, and Neil simply stares at her. 

“That’s good, Sweetheart,” her mom says almost hesitantly, glancing sideways at Neil. “Right, Neil?”

After a long moment, he nods slowly, keeping his eyes on Max. “The Chief of Police has no business talking to children about adult business.” There’s a hint of warning in his tone and she quickly drops her gaze to her plate, heart beating hard against her chest. 

She can feel Billy’s eyes burning into her skin the rest of the way through dinner, and she can’t escape fast enough. 

***  
After dinner, Max asks her mom if she can to to the arcade, knowing she’ll say yes. What she isn’t anticipating is Neil declaring he would drive her since it’s almost dark and he doesn’t want her skateboarding at night in the street.

He never offers to drive her anywhere, which is her first sign that things are about to go South. Still, she doesn’t see a way out, so she climbs into the passenger seat of his car, tugging the sleeves of her jacket down over her hands just to have something to do with them. 

Neil climbs in behind the wheel, backing the car out of the driveway. “So.” 

She doesn’t dare glance at him. Just stares out the windshield and prays that it’s a quick trip. “So?” she echoes, uncertain. 

“Do you know Chief Hopper personally?” His voice is way too casual for her liking. 

“No. He’s - just around occasionally because it’s such a small town. I don’t really know him.” It’s at least 50% honesty. She _doesn’t_ really know Hopper. She just knows him better than she’s willing to let on to her stepdad. 

Neil hums. “You forgot something, Maxine.” 

This time, she does glance at him, confused but also trying to squash her anxiety. “What?” 

“Sir.” 

She looks away once more. “Yes, Sir.” The word feels like vile filth on her tongue. 

“Better.” He reaches out and pats her knee. “You’re a good kid, Maxine. Not like Billy.” 

Max isn’t one to spout off a list of Billy’s good qualities - mostly because she’s never seen him exhibit any - but she struggles against the sudden urge she has to defend him. 

“I just really hope it stays that way,” he continues. “It would really be a shame if your mom had to lose her only biological child.” His voice is soft, almost soothing, a stark contrast from what he seems to be implying. 

She swallows heavily, but remains silent. 

“Kids go missing all the time these days. No one ever seems to know what happens to them.” He glances at her. 

Her heart is pounding again and she feels like she might throw up. 

“I can’t have you causing trouble, too. One troubled kid is more than enough. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers. 

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He pulls the car up in front of the arcade and motions out the windshield. “Have a good time.” 

Feeling numb, Max climbs out of the car and walks away slowly, toward the entrance of the arcade. Nausea bubbles up inside of her and she throws up her dinner in the garbage can on the sidewalk.

***

When Lucas spots Max entering the arcade, a wide smile spreads across his face. He makes his way over toward her, smile fading when he sees how pale she is. “Max?” 

“Hey.” She smiles at him, but it’s strained. Her hands are shaking. 

He reaches out and rests a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she says quickly. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful of quarters. “Let’s do this.” 

“Max, wait.” He frowns, shaking his head. “You look -- I don’t know. Upset.” 

“I’m not upset.” She starts to move away. 

He catches her hand in his own. “Max. Friends don’t lie.” 

She stops in her tracks but she doesn’t turn to face him. “I can’t. Okay? I don’t want to talk about it. I just wanna play. Okay?” There’s a hint of a plea in her voice. He’s never heard her sound like this before and it scares him. 

He stares at her for a moment, gaze dropping to their hands. She’s curled her fingers around his. 

“Please, Lucas.” 

His chest tightens and he squeezes her fingers gently.

“Okay,” he whispers.


	3. Chapter 3

Max groans as she slams her locker shut just as the final bell rings. She rests her head against the cool metal door for a moment, then reluctantly pulls away, tucking her books under her arm and making her way to social studies. 

“Ms. Mayfield. Strike two,” Mr. Harris informs her, looking unimpressed as she takes her seat near the back. “Once more is an automatic detention with yours truly on Friday. You’re not doing this for a little quality time with me, are you?” 

The entire class laughs and she feels her cheeks start to burn. 

“I assure you that’s _not_ the case,” she responds dryly, folding her arms across her chest. She slumps down in her seat as he returns to his lesson for the day. 

She’s already dreading facing the guys in second period. Lucas, especially. He already knows things aren’t great, but there’s also nothing he can do to fix it or make it any better, so she doesn’t see the point in weighing him down with a lot of personal bullshit. 

She exhales slowly, opening her book under the guise of paying attention. Social studies couldn’t be more irrelevant to her life at this point, so why bother? 

Tomorrow, though, she’d set her alarm an hour early so she could make sure she was on time. She’d tell her mom she was skating to school early to work on a project. She’d make it just before first period even without Billy’s stupid car. And she’d avoid detention. 

More than that, she’d avoid a whole lot of trouble at home. 

***

She manages to dodge the others most of the day, bailing on their normal lunch routine and hitting the library under the guise of extra study time. But between fifth and sixth period, she has to swap out her books and she spots a couple of kids she doesn’t recognize approaching Will at his locker. Something tightens in the pit of her stomach. 

Trouble. She knows it when she sees it. 

“Hey, look at Zombie Boy. What’s up, Zombie Boy?” 

“Died again lately?” 

Will doesn’t respond, simply closes his locker and starts to head away, expression giving away nothing. How he manages to look so disinterested when he’s being picked on is something she really wants to learn someday. 

They follow him, the shorter of the two knocking the books from his hands. “Too good to talk to us now?” 

Max has seen enough. More than enough really. She slams her own locker shut and stalks over to stand between the two bullies and Will as he picks up his books. 

“Do you two wastoids have a problem?” she demands, glaring at them intensely, one hand on her hip. 

The boys exchange an amused glance and look back at her with raised eyebrows. “Don’t tell me your Zombie Boy’s girlfriend.” 

The taller one laughs. 

“Actually, I’m Billy Hargrove’s sister,” she informs him, smirking and folding her arms across her chest. 

His face pales instantly. The other boy just looks stunned. 

“So I’d walk away now if I were you,” she warns, eyes narrowed, and she makes a shooing motion with her hand. 

They don’t hesitate, scrambling away from her, and more importantly, from Will. 

At least Billy’s good for _something._

She looks down see Will looking up at her, wide-eyed and awed. It’s a look she’s seen Lucas gazing at her with on more than one occasion, and she never knows what to do with it. Her cheeks grow warm. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Max,” he tells her quietly. 

“No problem,” she assures him, holding her hand out to help him up. He places his hand in hers and lets her, giving her a barely there smile as their eyes meet momentarily.

“Who were those guys, anyway?” she asks.

“Troy and James.” 

Understanding dawns on her. “ _Oh._ ” 

“You heard about them, huh?” He grips onto his books as they walk.

“Lucas told me some stories, yeah,” she admits as they head toward English class. She glances at him sideways, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“We missed you at lunch,” he says, voice still quiet. He’s always so much quieter than the others. 

“Yeah, I needed to study.” She _had_ studied even if there hadn’t been an urgent need for it. It had mostly been an avoidance technique. 

He pauses just outside their classroom, leaning against the doorframe and gazing at her with an intensity that unsettles her. Then he takes a deep breath. “Max?” 

“Yeah?” Her gaze flickers to his face and she finds it difficult to hold his gaze.

“If you’re not okay or...if you’re in trouble, we can help you. It’s what friends do,” Will tells her earnestly. 

Unexpectedly, tears prickle at her eyes and she looks away, blinking quickly to keep them from falling. She’s _not_ going to cry at school. Or in front of Will. “I know.” 

His expression is worried, but he doesn’t push. “Come on. Let’s get inside before the bell rings.” 

Good idea, she thinks, leading the way. One more tardy and she’ll have detention. And then all hell is going to break loose.

***

“So, kids. How was school today?” Neil asks as they sit around the dining room table that night. Tonight’s dinner is some cut of beef, potatoes, and corn that she’d scrounged up from the dwindling contents of their fridge after school. 

“It was swell,” Billy responds, taking a bite of his potato. 

Max feels Neil’s eyes on her and tries to ignore the nervous way her stomach tightens. “It was fine.” 

“No more encounters with the chief, I hope?” 

Susan glances at him and takes a sip of her water, eyes darting to her daughter warily. 

“No, Sir,” Max responds, pushing her corn around on her plate but not making any effort to eat it. 

“Glad to hear it.” Neil smiles at his wife. “Well, Susan and I will be on a business trip this weekend. We’ll be leaving early Friday morning and be back Sunday night. I expect the two of you to be well-behaved and not cause any trouble. Am I clear?” 

“Yes, Sir,” Billy answers obediently. 

“We’re clear,” Max echoes, not looking up from her plate. 

Susan studies Max for a moment. “Maxine, are you feeling okay?” 

“My stomach’s a little upset. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Except ever-present, persistent dread, she thinks. 

Her mom reaches out and feels her forehead, humming. “You don’t have a fever.” 

Max shrugs. “I told you it was nothing.” 

“Well, if you aren’t hungry, you can go lie down if you want,” she tells her. 

“Yeah. I need to get to bed early anyway. I’m going to school early to work on a biology project.” Max rises to her feet, ignoring the way Billy narrows his eyes at her. “I’ll skate there so you don’t have to get up early,” she tells him. 

“That’s not -- “ he starts. 

“I’ll take you, Sweetheart,” Susan tells hers and the concern in her mother’s voice is almost too much for her to handle. 

“Thanks, Mom,” she murmurs, scraping her dinner into the trash and turning to head toward her room, relief washing over. 

Something is finally going right.

But she’s sure it isn’t going to last for long. 

***

“I know what you’re doing,” Billy hisses at her later that night as she passes him in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. 

“Going to pee,” she responds and for one second, she’s sure he’s going to shove her into the wall, familiar dark look on his face. 

“You can’t outsmart me, Maxine,” he tells her with a smirk. “You’re not that smart to begin with.” 

She watches him go back toward his room, lighting up a cigarette on the way. 

***

Max is the first one at the bike rack the next morning. She sees the surprise on Lucas’s face and she smiles as she greets him. “Morning, Stalker.” 

“Morning, Mad Max,” he grins as he locks his bike up. They’re joined seconds later by Mike and Dustin. 

“Hey, you’re early,” Dusting greets her, looking surprised.

“My mom drove me today,” she tells them, watching Mike lock his bicycle up and offering her a tiny smile. She smiles back tentatively. 

Lucas looks between them, grin growing as he realizes they’re actually getting along. “Anyone started on that algebra homework yet?” 

Will groans as he walks up. “Yeah but I didn’t get very far.” Math isn’t his best subject by any means. In fact, he hates it. 

It’s not Max’s favorite subject either.

“Why doesn’t everyone come over after school? We can work on it at my house,” Mike suggests. He looks right at Max. “You too.” 

Surprise flickers across her face and her chest feels tight for a different reason. She does her best to act nonchalant about the invitation - her _first_ \- to the Wheeler house. “Cool.” 

Lucas beams at Mike and then drapes an arm around her shoulders. “Cool.” 

***

The Wheeler’s house is huge and nice. Nicer than she’d imagined, even. She looks at all the framed family photographs all over the walls. She hadn’t even realized that Mike had a younger sister. 

The little girl peeks at her shyly from behind Mrs. Wheeler’s skirt and Max gives her a soft smile and waves at her. Holly smiles back but then buries her face in her mom’s legs. 

Mrs. Wheeler looks uncertain about her presence and Max gets it. She doubts there’ve been many girls hanging out with her son, but she’s hardly the only one there. 

“So we’re going downstairs to work on algebra,” Mike explains. “No D&D, no video games, just homework.” 

Still, Mrs. Wheeler’s gaze flits from his face to Max’s and she shifts uncomfortably, relaxing when Lucas reaches out and slips his hand into hers. She glances at him silently and he gives her a reassuring look. 

She can’t help but notice the very visible relief on MIke’s mom’s face as she realizes that Max isn’t holding her _son’s_ hand instead. 

“All right. Dinner is in an hour. I hope you’re all hungry. I’ve made plenty,” she says cheerfully, dismissing them to head to the basement. 

“That was awkward,” she mumbles. 

Lucas squeezes her hand gently. “She’s...an interesting person,” he says vaguely. 

She gives him a look and follows him down the basement stairs. She’s heard a lot about the Wheeler basement. About how it’s the Party’s main hangout. It’s where all their D&D adventures take place. Where Eleven had hit out for a week a year before. 

She thinks it must be a pretty safe place to be, a stark contrast from the house she lives in. 

“Don’t mind my mom.” Mike glances at her she looks around. “She’s just shocked to see a girl with us.” 

“What’s for dinner, anyway?” Dustin asks, dropping his book bag by the couch. He sits down, looking up at them, gaze darting to where Lucas and Max’s hands are still joined, and then quickly glancing away. 

Mike shrugs. “It’s Thursday, so probably either spaghetti or pot roast.” He sits down at the table across from where Will’s sat down, and he pulls out his algebra book. 

Max thinks anything she doesn’t have to fix sounds awesome. She glances around hesitantly, unsure of where to sit. Lucas tugs gently on her hand, pulling her toward the coffee table in front of the couch and shrugging his backpack off, sitting down on the floor. 

She kneels down next to him and does the same, pulling out her book, notebook, pencil and calculator. 

Dustin gapes at her. “You can’t use a calculator!” he protests. 

She looks up at him, startled. “I always use a calculator.” 

“But you can’t use one on the tests,” he points out. 

Max shrugs. “I ace the homework and skid by on the tests and it averages out okay.” 

Lucas stares at her with wide eyes. “But…” 

She arches her eyebrows and glances over at the other two curiously. Will is grinning ear to ear and Mike looks as shocked as Lucas and Dustin. 

“Oh my god, you’re all acting like I insulted your mothers.” 

Will laughs. “They’re math nerds.” 

Dustin makes a face at him. “You could be too, if you applied yourself.” 

Lucas shakes his head. “We can help you guys so you don’t need calculators. It’s really not that bad.” 

Max looks at him dubiously and then meets Will’s eyes, enjoying his amusement. 

“I’m serious. Mike, you and Dustin work with Will. I’ll work with Max.” 

“Shocker.” Dustin rolls his eyes. 

Lucas throws a crumpled paper ball at his head, causing the others to laugh. 

“Are you really doing homework down there?” Mrs. Wheeler calls down the steps. 

“Yes, Mom,” Mike yells back, clearly annoyed. He heaves a sign. “All right, let’s get to work.” 

Max and Will exchange small smiles before turning their attention to homework. 

***

“So if X equals 2, then Y has to equal 8, because the answer is…” Lucas’s voice trails off as he glances at Max. He blinks when he realizes her eyes have drifted shut, head resting on one arm. “Max?” 

She doesn’t even stir. He looks over to see Dustin staring at her from where he’s sitting on the couch. They exchange a look and Lucas quietly finishes jotting down the last answer on both his and Max’s papers before closing his algebra book. He slides her homework into a blue folder and puts her things into her bag. 

“She must really hate math,” Dustin comments. 

“I know the feeling,” Will mumbles across the room. 

“You’ve almost got it thought,” Mike tells him as he finishes his own assignment. 

“Maybe. But I still hate it.” 

Mike smiles at the normalcy of the conversation. “Okay so after dinner, I’m going to start planning next weekend’s campaign.” 

“Try not to get grounded again before then,” Dustin tells him with raised eyebrows. “It’s been weeks since we’ve played.” 

“We should invite Max.” Lucas’s voice is quiet, but serious. 

“She doesn’t even know how to play,” Mike responds instantly. 

“So we’ll teach her,” he says. “Like we will _El_ when she can come.” 

Lucas and Mike stare at each other for a long, tense moment, locked in a battle of wills. 

“Fine,” Mike grumbles finally. 

“She could be a rogue,” Will says thoughtfully. 

“Or a thief,” Dustin responds, arching his eyebrows. 

Lucas looks at Max once more, expression softening as he watches her sleep. He’s not sure which character she’ll want to make as her own, but he has no doubt that whatever she picks will be _tubular._


	4. Chapter 4

She gets up early again the next morning, fully intending to skate to school before her stepbrother’s ever even out of bed. It doesn’t work out that way, though, because of course it doesn’t. 

He’s waiting in the hallway outside her room as soon as she steps out. Her eyes go wide at the sight, startled by his presence. 

“Susan and my dad said to make sure I told you goodbye for them this morning. They’ve already left,” he informs her. 

“Okay,” she responds, maneuvering around him to get to the bathroom. 

“We’re leaving at a quarter til.” 

“I was going to skate there and then you don’t have to be bothered by me,” she says. 

“No. I’m driving. You’re coming with me.” 

“Billy --” 

He grabs her by the wrist, yanking her close. “No arguments.” 

She does her best not to wince at the familiar pressure, and she doesn’t try pulling away. She knows from experience that will just make things worse. “Fine.” 

Billy stares at her, icy gaze searching her face, then lets her go and stalks down the hallway. 

Max steps into the bathroom and locks the door behind her, tears springing to her eyes that she quickly blinks back. There’s no time for tears and she refuses to cry over her asshole stepbrother anymore. He isn’t worth it.

She goes about her morning routine: showering, drying her hair, getting dressed, and finally sitting down to have a couple pieces of toast with peanut butter. They ignore each other at breakfast and when he grabs his jacket and car keys, she follows him wordlessly toward the car, eying the clock warily. Ten minutes til first bell. 

He stops a half-mile from the school. “Okay. Get out.” He doesn’t look at her. 

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice is barely audible. 

“Why am I doing this?” he echoes, raising his eyebrows. His voice is mocking. “Well, Maxine. I’ve decided it’s time for you to realize just how great you’ve got it.” He points toward the passenger door. “Now get out.”   
She stares at him for a moment, then reaches for the door handle, climbing out of the car. 

He rolls the window down. “Better get moving.You’re gonna be late again.” He smirks at her. “Third time this week, isn’t it?” He takes a drag off his cigarette as he peels away, kicking up dust and dead leaves around her as he drives off without looking back. 

***

Under other circumstances, Max probably would have just said screw it. She might have ditched school for the entire day since she’s going to have detention anyway. She could have spent the day at the arcade, or skateboarding at the park, or a lot of other more appealing options, but. 

But. 

This isn’t California. 

Here, she has at least a couple of people - maybe a handful even, who care about her. Who would be worried if she vanished for the entire day. 

Lucas would worry, and as much as she hates to admit it, she doesn’t _want_ Lucas to be worried about her. Or Will, whom she suddenly, and kind of out of the blue, has bonded with. And Will? Has had more than enough crap of his own to deal with and worry about over the last year. 

By comparison, she thinks, she has no reason to be upset over the stupid shit with Billy. 

She makes it to school twenty minutes after first period begins, but she doesn’t bother going to class. She hangs out under the bleachers outside, reading ahead in her copy of The Bell Jar. She thinks it might be too heavy for eighth grade English class, but she also has a hard time putting it away when it’s time for second period science class. She makes it to her seat two minutes before the bell rings, giving Lucas a quick smile when he enters the room. 

He looks like he’s about to come talk to her, but gets distracted when Mike and Will enter the room, Will avoiding eye contact with all of them, and Mike looking pissed off. 

“What happened?” Lucas frowns and Max sits up a little more in her seat. 

“Just Troy being himself,” Will mumbles. 

“And you’re a piece of shit floating in the sewer!” Dustin yells as he enters the classroom. “Yeah! Even your mom wants to flush you!” 

Max presses her lips together, making eye contact with Lucas for a brief moment before she looks down at her textbook. 

No. They definitely didn’t need to worry about her problems. There are enough other things going on as it is. 

***

She’s not even surprised when, while she’s walking with Lucas, that she runs directly into Mr. Harris. 

“Ms. Mayfield. Guess you wanted to spend some quality time with me after all.” He gives her a look. “I expect you’ll be in my classroom by 3PM sharp.” 

She gives him a mock salute, trying to ignore the curious look she’s getting from Lucas as they head toward the cafeteria. 

“You got detention?” he asks finally. 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I blew off first period.” 

“Social studies?” His eyebrows furrow. 

Max’s eyebrows raise, even though she’s not really surprised that he knows her schedule. “That’s not creepy at all,” she jokes. 

He ignores her quip. “I thought it was math that you hated.” 

“I hate social studies, too.” She shrugs. It’s not exactly the truth. She just doesn’t _care_ about social studies. 

Lucas gazes at her. “Max, are you okay? All week you’ve been kind of...off.” 

“Don’t worry about me, Stalker. I’m just fine.” She pats his arm and sails past him toward the cafeteria, bypassing the line.

“Aren’t you getting lunch?” 

“Not hungry.” It’s the truth, at least. The thought of eating anything right now makes her stomach turn. Besides, she’s not wasting her arcade money on school food. 

Screw that. 

***

Mike is slumped in a chair toward the back of Mr. Harris’s classroom by 2:58 PM that afternoon. He’s ready to get detention over with so he can be done with school for the week, and with his grounding at home by the end of the weekend. 

There are a few other detention-goers who filter in and take their seats. Mostly some of the regulars. Mike’s gotten to be a bit familiar with the crowd over the last few months, even if he didn’t consider any of them friends. 

“Wheeler,” David Horn greets, nodding and dropping into the seat to his right. 

Mike nods back and starts doodling in his notebook, glancing up and blinking a couple of times when he sees Max step into the room, looking as thrilled to be there as he feels. 

As though feeling his eyes on her, the redhead shifts her gaze to look at him, and for a second she starts to smile, but then she looks away and he frowns, confused by why she’s there in the first place and also by her reaction to seeing him. 

He glances at the empty chair to his left and then back at her, more confused when she chooses one of the seats at the front of the class - as far away from him as possible. 

He shouldn’t care, but. 

But despite his initial annoyance at her presence, he knows he misjudged her pretty badly. She’s more than proven herself a loyal friend and ally. Hell, she’d literally saved Steve’s life, not to mention how she’d been a key piece in saving Eleven and Will that same night. 

_”You’re still not really including her.”_

Mike takes a deep breath and grabs his notebook, rising to his feet and dropping into the seat at Max’s right, just before Mr. Harris makes his way into the classroom. 

Her blue eyes are wide and shocky at his actions, and guilt floods through him. Shit. Has he really been that much of an asshole to her? 

He can practically hear his other friends in his head, an instant chorus of “Yes.” He sighs. Shit. 

“Who can tell me the rules of detention?” Mr. Harris asks as he sits down at his desk, a book in his hands. 

“No gum.” 

“No talking,” Jerry Christoff replies, tone bored. 

“No sleeping,” Shawn Perona chimes in. 

“And what happens if the rules are violated?” 

“Detention next Friday,” David supplies, eying Max with interest. 

“You have an hour to do homework or sit quietly and contemplate why detention isn’t a good thing,” Harris states, looking around once and then dropping his gaze to his book, eager to try and forget that they’re there at all.

Mike knows from experience that Harris doesn’t really follow through with detention for any of those things. Aside from being late or skipping class, he’s pretty lenient when it comes to rules. So he has no qualms leaning a little toward Max’s desk and whispering, “What’d you get busted for?” 

Startled blue eyes turn to meet his and then she casts a troubled look at Harris, remaining silent. He gets not loving the idea of another detention, but she looks borderline afraid. 

“It’s okay. His only _real_ rule is not being late or skipping class,” he tells her. 

She looks mildly relieved, then she seems to pull together her careless attitude once more. “Oops.” 

Right. She’d been late to school more than once this week. A frown tugs at his lips as he remembers how worried Lucas looked each time. “Doesn’t Billy drive you to school?” 

Max looks away, shoulders tensing as he watches her. “Sometimes.” 

Something’s wrong, he thinks. “Is he being an asshole again?” 

“Billy never stops being an asshole. It’s fine.” 

Mike’s frown deepens. “We could go get Steve’s bat again.” 

The ghost of a smile touches her mouth before vanishing. She turns her head to look at him. “Look, you don’t have to talk to me, okay? We can play nice in front of Lucas and the others and I won’t say anything.” 

He blinks, startled. “Wait, what -” 

She cuts him off. “I know you still don’t like me. It’s fine. I’m not trying to replace her. But I get it.” 

His chest tightens at the vague mention of El. It’s now been a full week since he’s seen her and every night has felt like one of the terrible nights from the year before. “Listen,” he murmurs. “I think we just need to try and start over. I was a total wastoid and I’m sorry.” 

For the first time since he met her, she’s rendered speechless, simply staring at him. He feels about two inches tall. 

“Friends?” he asks quietly, earnestly. 

Max holds his gaze for a long moment before nodding, eyes lighting up. “Friends.” 

***

To say that seeing Max and Mike leaving the school building side by side, talking and laughing was a surprise to Lucas would be the understatement of the year. 

“Dude. Is this real?” Dustin does a doubletake, looking at their friends and then back at Lucas, eyes wide. 

“I think so,” he confirms, wide grin on his face. 

About time. 

***

When she knocks on the Sinclair’s door that night, she’s greeted not by Lucas, but by his little sister Erica. She knows the kids get on Lucas’s nerves, but she can’t help but feel a sense of kinship with her. She’s ornery and sassy and says what’s on her mind even if it gets her scolded by one of her parents or Lucas. 

She grins at the younger girl, who grins back at her, looking pleased to see her. “Lucas! Your girlfriend is here!” Erica yells over her shoulder, and she can hear Dustin and Will laughing in response from upstairs. 

Max smirks and steps inside. “Staying out of trouble, or just causing it?” she teases. 

Erica returns the smirk. “Depends on the day, Mad Max.” 

“Sounds familiar.” 

The younger girl’s smile widens even as Lucas’s footsteps clunk down the steps. He eyes his little sister suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at her. 

“Max,” he greets, expression brightening when he sees her. “We just ordered pizza. It should be here soon.” 

“Cool.” Max drapes her arm around Erica’s shoulders. “What are we watching?” 

His gaze flickers between them and she knows he knows there’s no battle to be won here and he doesn’t even try. “We rented Jaws 3-D, Christine, and Cujo.” 

She raises her eyebrows at the selections. Like their world wasn’t already full of supernatural weird shit? She didn’t really mind, but she was a little worried about Will’s potential reaction to those movies. 

Lucas shrugs, looking sheepish as though reading her thoughts. Erica looks between them and makes a face. 

“You’re doing that thing again. Where you’re not talking but you’re looking at each other with googly eyes. It’s gross,” she informs them. 

Max bites back a laugh even as Lucas scowls at her. 

“We are _not_ ,” he argues. 

“Are so,” Erica shoots back. 

“Ugh. Come on, Max.” 

Max smirks at Lucas and then glances at the other girl. “Catch you later?” 

“Yep. Have fun with the nerds.” She flounces away and Lucas glares after her, shaking his head.

“Such a pain,” he mumbles. 

“She’s not so bad.” She reaches out and takes his hand, leading him toward the steps. 

Almost instantly, the glare vanishes and he follows her. She doesn’t quite suppress a smile. Erica is right. He’s definitely making googly eyes. 

***

She’s half asleep in the Sinclair’s living room, back pressed up against the base of the sofa when she hears a faint sniffling sound. She blinks, bleary-eyed, and pushes herself up onto her elbows in time to see Will crawling out of his sleeping bag. Rubbing a hand over her face, she extracts herself from her own sleeping bag - borrowed from Lucas of course - and follows. 

She watches from the door frame for a moment as he stares out the kitchen window, face pale against the faint street light pouring in through the window. She shifts awkwardly, glancing over her shoulder, but Lucas and Dustin are still asleep. 

“Will?” she whispers hesitantly. 

He starts, then turns to look at her, relaxing when he sees who it is. “Did I wake you up?” 

“No.” She pads farther into the kitchen, tucking some hair behind her ear. “You okay?” 

“Bad dream,” he admits, ducking his head. 

She watches him for a moment. “You wanna talk about it?” 

He shakes his head a little, then glances at her, looking tired. Lost. She recognizes that expression, and her chest tightens. “I know it’s out of my head, but sometimes when I sleep, it…” 

“Feels like it’s still there?” she guesses. 

“Yeah.” He exhales. 

“Dreams are weird.” She leans against the sink beside him. “Especially the ones that feel real.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Sometimes when I wake up I’m not sure if I’ve even been sleeping.” 

Max presses her lips together. “It hasn’t been that long. It’s still pretty fresh in your mind.” 

“I just want things to go back to normal.” 

She hesitates, then rests a hand on his arm. Will gives her a tiny smile. “I wish I knew how to help,” she admits, voice dropping. “Sometimes I feel like I’m really out of my league with you guys.” 

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “You aren’t,” he protests. “You’re one of us.” 

Her cheeks grow warm. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course. You helped save me, and El, and Steve and _everyone_. You’re in the party for _life._ ” 

Max meets his eyes and the earnest expression on his face makes her chest feel warm. She smiles, bright and genuine and he grins back at her. “Wanna play Scrabble?” 

His eyes light up. “Yes!” 

And a few hours later, that’s how Lucas and Dustin find them, locked in an intense round of the game at the Sinclair’s kitchen table, concentration on their faces.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So trigger warning here. This chapter has some graphic violence, including abuse against a spouse and against children. There's also a scene with bullying. 
> 
> On the upside of things, STEVE makes his first appearance, and so does Eleven!
> 
> ***

Max doesn’t bother returning home til Sunday afternoon, and Billy doesn’t come looking for her, and it’s actually a good weekend. A great one, even. She spends Saturday night at the Byers’ house, and then the party, sans a still-grounded Mike and a still-in-hiding El, meet up and spend most of Sunday at the arcade. Max kicks all of their asses at every game they play, though Dustin at least, is getting better at Dig Dug. 

She feels nervous but not overly so as she skateboard toward her house, but the nervousness turns to dread when she sees her stepdad’s car in the driveway. They’re home early. 

For one moment, she seriously considers turning around and skating back to the Sinclair’s. But she thinks the longer she procrastinates coming home, the worse things will end up being. Better to just face the music now.

Besides, she tells herself, they’re usually in a good mood after they’ve been away for a couple days. She picks up her skateboard and tucks it under her arm as she heads into the house. 

She finds her mother and stepdad sitting across from one another at the kitchen table. Her mother doesn’t look up, but Neil does, and the muscle in his jaw twitches. 

“Where’ve you been, Maxine?” 

Her gaze darts to her mom’s face. “The arcade.” She knows that Billy won’t have said anything about her being gone all weekend, considering how much trouble _he_ would also be in.

“I see.” Neil’s eyes are sharp as he stares at her. “Come and sit down.” 

Max slowly sets her skateboard down, and then sits in the chair at the end of the table. “How was your trip?” 

“We’re not talking about our trip right now,” he answers, and she knows that’s not good because Neil _loves_ to talk about himself.

“Billy said you had a detention Friday.” Her mother still doesn’t look at her, and the tone of her voice indicates she’d rather be doing anything else than having this conversation. Max knows the feeling. 

Of course Billy had thrown her under the bus. She’s sure that was the whole point of dumping her off on the side of the road. It’s his new way of showing her who’s in control between the two of them. 

“My locker got stuck and I was late to class.” Her voice doesn’t waver. She doesn’t like lying, but she’s learned to do it well for self-preservation purposes. 

Without warning, Neil grabs her arm, yanking her halfway across the table toward him. “Billy said you skipped class.” 

She winces at the tight grip. “You’re hurting me.” 

“Neil…” Susan’s voice trembles. 

“Stay out of this,” he warns, and her mom goes silent once more. He glares at Max. “Do _not_ start causing problems for this family, Maxine. I will _not_ have another troublemaker to deal with.” 

It’s all she can do not to try and pull away from him. Don’t make it worse, she thinks. 

He shakes her, reminding her of Billy as his lips curl into a sneer. “Are we clear, you stupid little cunt?” 

“Neil!” 

He shoves Max back into her chair and backhands Susan, who gasps, grabbing her cheek with a shocked expression. 

“Don’t you touch her!” Max leaps to her feet, anger flashing in her eyes. 

Neil rises to his feet, towering over her and grabbing her by the arm again, yanking her out of the dining room and dragging her toward the hallway. She cries out involuntarily as he twists her arm at an odd angle and pain shoots through her. 

“Neil! Neil, please!” Susan cries, following them, tears streaming down her face. 

He whirls to face her, tightening his grip on Max’s arm. “This is the kind of shit that happens when you never discipline your kid. And since you won’t do it, you leave _me_ no choice! Don’t make it any worse than it has to be.” His voice is full of warning. 

Susan trembles, eyes shifting to Max’s face. There’s sorrow there, regret, and then there’s a moment where Max knows with certainty that she is on her own. Her mom isn’t going to save her. Susan drops her gaze and Neil jerks her into his bedroom. She catches Billy’s pale-faced, shocked expression just before her stepdad slams the door shut in their faces. 

“Bend over the bed, Maxine,” he orders. 

“Please don’t do this. I’m sorry,” she whispers, tears trickling down her cheeks. “It won’t happen again.” 

“Do _not_ make me repeat myself.” 

She bites down hard on her lower lip and turns to face the bed, closing her eyes as she leans down over it, stomach pressing into the mattress. 

“This is going to hurt me a lot more than it’ll hurt you,” he tells her, even as he moves behind her, tugging the back of her shirt up. 

Somehow, she doubts it. 

And at the first lick of the belt against her bare skin, she knows she was right. 

By the third strike with his belt, she feels her skin break and begin to bleed and her tears soak into the bedspread, bunched beneath her fingers as she clutches onto it tightly. 

She refuses to make a sound as he beats her. 

She won’t give him the satisfaction. 

***

The next morning, Billy doesn’t look at her at breakfast, or as they get into his car. She does her best not to lean back against the seat as he drives them toward school, and considering he doesn’t speed the way he normally does, she can only assume he’s aware of how bad her back is. Maybe some part of him even feels guilty about it, but she doubts it. He doesn’t dump her off on the side of the road, instead driving her all the way to Hawkins Middle School silently until he pulls to a stop in one of the parking places. 

“You needed to learn that lesson, Max. For your own good.” His voice is quiet and she turns her head to look at him. 

She grabs her skateboard and reaches for the door handle. “Fuck you, Billy,” she says just as quietly. “You’re a piece of shit, just like your dad.” She slams the door behind her and stalks toward the entrance of the school, not looking back. 

***

Lucas catches sight of Max approaching and a dopey grin spreads across his face, but vanishes a second later when he sees her stormy expression. Automatically his gaze shifts to the blue camaro in the lot and he tenses. 

“Hey, Max,” Will greets, eyes troubled as she meets up with them.

He watches the shift in her mood - as she gives them a big, definitely not genuine smile. “Hey guys.” She’s carrying her skateboard under the opposite arm that she usually carries it, and her other hand is holding onto her bookbag, knuckles pale white from clutching onto it so hard. 

“Hey,” Lucas says, meeting her eyes for as long as she’ll allow, which isn’t long. 

Mike offers her a smile. “I’m ungrounded,” he tells her. “We were just talking about going to see El after school.” 

For a moment, Lucas is certain he sees panic on her face, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears, making him wonder if he’d just imagined it. 

“Hopper’s okay with that?” 

“He said once a week.” Mike pauses, then shrugs. “You know. That he _knows_ about.” 

“Of course.” Max smirks at him. “Okay, so who’s driving?” 

“Steve,” Dustin supplies, eyes lighting up. 

“Cool.” The warning bell rings and that panicked look flickers over her face again. “Catch you guys in science.” She heads away quickly. 

Will and Lucas exchange a worried look, and Mike frowns. “What?” 

“Something’s wrong,” Will murmurs, watching the redhead vanish inside the school. 

“You mean other than her step-brother being the biggest wastoid on the planet?” Dustin retorts, glancing toward Billy’s camaro and shaking his head. 

“Yeah,” Lucas mumbles, turning and heading toward the school lobby. Billy being a douchebag isn’t a newsflash by any means, but this is something else. He’s sure of it. He just hopes that Max will talk to him soon so that he can try and help. 

***

Mike stays behind a few minutes after fourth period to talk to Mrs. Sanchez about some English homework. He’s brought his lunch anyway, so as soon as he’s done talking to her, he swings by his locker, grabs the brown bag, and heads outside to their usual table in the courtyard. He’s halfway there when Troy and James step in front of him. 

“Frogface. Long time no see.” 

Mike blinks. “I just saw you during third period.” 

Troy scowls. “What’d you bring for lunch today?” He reaches out and grabs the bag away from him. 

“Give it back!” he orders. He spots Will and Dustin approaching, Lucas not far behind. 

“Hey, it’s the entire loser’s club,” James says with a laugh, towering over all of them by a good six inches. 

“Careful. Might end up pissing yourself,” Lucas cautions.

Troy glares at him, dumping the contents of Mike’s lunch on the ground and stepping on it. “Oops.” 

Mike shakes his head and moves past him wordlessly, until Troy focuses his attention on Will. 

“Zombie-Boy! What’d the fairy bring for lunch? Or are you too poor to eat?” 

Will doesn’t respond, just looks at him passively. Mike, on the other hand, grinds his teeth together, standing close to his friend. “Piss off, Troy.” 

“Come on. Ignore them. They aren’t worth our time,” Dustin says, turning to head back toward their table. 

“Hey. We’re not done talking yet,” James responds, stepping in front of him and blocking his path. 

“Hey, _dickbags._ ” 

Mike’s gaze flickers to where Max is standing, fury in her blue eyes. 

“I think I told you once to leave my friends alone.” Her voice is cold. 

Troy to turns to face her and all four of the boys tense. “Funny thing. Rumor I heard is that your brother hates you.” He smirks at her.

“Shut your mouth,” Lucas growls. 

“When I’m talking to _you_ , Midnight, you’ll know it,” Troy responds, turning his head just enough to look at Lucas. 

It’s a mistake on his part because it means he never sees Max coming. 

Mike does, and even though his eyes widen, he winces when the petite red-head’s fist connects so solidly with Troy’s nose that the older boy hits the ground. 

And she doesn’t stop there. She follows him down, wailing on him with her fists, red hair flying as she curses at him with so many colorful phrases that it makes Dustin seem like a saint. For a moment, the boys stare in shock as she kicks the crap out of the kid who’s tormented them for years. When the shock starts to fade, Mike realizes that a crowd has started gathering around them, cheering and laughing, egging it on. 

Lucas springs forward, wrapping his arms around Max from behind and pulling her off Troy. “Max! Max, stop, it’s okay. He’s done.” 

She jerks away from him almost instantly, frustrated sound escaping her. “Get off me!” 

He backs off instantly, eyes wide. 

Max is breathing heavily even as Troy lies on the ground moaning. “She broke my nose. The bitch broke my nose!” 

“You’re fucking lucky that’s _all_ she broke, you piece of shit!” Dustin yells. 

For the most part, the crowd’s now gone silent, and Mike takes a careful step toward their zoomer, not wanting to startle her. “Max. Hey. Your knuckles.” His voice is hushed but laced with concern. 

Max looks down at her hands hands, her knuckles bloodied and bruised. Then wordlessly, she turns and flees back into the school building, leaving them all staring after her for the second time that day. 

***

It’s hard for him to focus on classes the rest of the day, alternately excited to see El, and replaying the scene from lunch over and over in his head. It’s strange to think about. He’s seen El break bones with a tilt of her head, and melt people’s insides just by looking at them. He hadn’t felt guilt or sadness or remorse for their injuries or deaths. It had been pure self-defense. 

Today hadn’t been any different in his eyes, except that Max doesn’t have Eleven’s abilities. She’d been a storm of pure fury, primal and dangerous in her own right. 

It had been kind of awesome. 

He waits on the steps of the school for the rest of the party, and he taps his foot absently, checking his watch every few minutes. When a shadow falls on him, he looks up to see her standing there, still and silent for a moment before she slowly sits down beside him. 

Instantly his gaze shoots to her hands. The blood is all gone, but her knuckles are swollen and bruised. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.” 

He studies her for a moment, then looks toward the parking lot. “I’ve wanted to beat the crap out of Troy since first grade.” 

“Why haven’t you?” 

Mike pauses, considering. “I guess I was scared,” he admits. 

Max exhales. “Guys like Troy? They don’t stop just because you ignore them. They _never_ stop.” Her voice is hushed and he finds himself looking at her again, dark eyes worried. “Not unless you make them.” 

“Like you did with Billy.” 

A bitter, barely there smile touches her mouth. “Guess this makes me just like him.” 

“What?” He’s truly startled. “No. Not even close.” Mike stares at her. “You were _defending_ us, not -- being crazy for the sake of being crazy.” 

She doesn’t respond. 

“Hey.” Mike reaches out and puts a hand on her arm, wincing when she flinches. “You’re _nothing_ like Billy, okay? Nothing.” He lets his hand fall away. “Are you hurt?” 

“No, just -- sore from the fight. He didn’t touch me.” Her voice is distant. Troy hadn’t even tried to fight back.

He starts to say something else when the others come up behind them. “There’s Steve!” Dustin says, pointing to the car. He glances at Max and grins. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

Max rises to her feet, slow and with halted movements. Mike can tell she’s in more pain than she wants them to know, and he hopes Hopper has some aspirin at the cabin that she can take. 

Lucas remains quiet as they head for the car, gaze lingering on her the whole time. 

“Max gets shotgun,” Will speaks up as they approach Steve’s vehicle. 

“What? Who says?” Dustin demands. 

“Hey, she beat down Troy. She deserves the front seat,” Mike points out, and he catches the hint of a smile on her face. 

“Wait, what?” Steve frowns as they all pile into the car, Max beside him in the passenger seat. 

“Dude, it was _awesome_ ,” Dustin exclaims, leaning up between the seats. “Troy dumped Mike’s lunch all over the ground and Max just came up and decked him.” 

“Yeah, then she wailed on him until he was crying like a little girl,” Mike adds.

Steve glances at Max, whose face has turned almost as red as her hair. Wordlessly, he starts his car, but not before his gaze flicks toward her hands. “Shit, Kid. You busted your hands up, too.” 

“It’s fine.” Her voice is quiet and she stares ahead out the windshield.

“We’ll get some ice when we get to the chief’s place.” There’s no room for argument in Steve’s tone, and she doesn’t try, Mike notices. 

He tries not to worry, but he can’t quite help it. Worrying about his friends is a thing he does, and Max? Is one of them now. 

***

The entirety of what Steve knows about Max Mayfield is this: she is sarcastic as hell, willing to put her life on the line to help her friends even when she doesn’t know all the facts or details, and her stepbrother is a ginormous piece of shit. Oh. And that she apparently _kicks so much ass_ at every video game on the planet _and_ she’s hell on wheels of more than one kind. In a nutshell, he knows enough to be concerned at how quiet she is even after the boys gush about her defending them at lunch from the middle school’s biggest bully (according to Dustin). 

He knows that Lucas and Dustin both _like_ her, even though he thinks Dustin’s crush has faded somewhat. He hopes so, for the younger boy’s sake anyway. 

He mostly tunes out the chatter from the backseat, though when he glances in the rearview, he notices that Lucas is staring out the window, and he wonders if he and Max had some kind of falling out. 

He almost groans because A) They’re like ten years old and shouldn’t be worrying about things like romance _anyway_ and 2) if they _did_ have some kind of argument, it’s bound to affect the rest of the party, and in turn, him, eventually. 

He forces himself to concentrate on getting them to Hopper’s cabin, driving up to the quarter of a mile mark, and then putting the car into park. “All right, Shitheads. Everyone out. We’re hoofing it from here. Chief’s orders.” 

To his surprise, not a single one of the kids protests. He’s reaching toward the door handle of the car when he hears an almost inaudible gasp beside him as Max does the same, and he grows still. He would have chalked it up to his imagination if he hadn’t caught the flash of pain on her face that she didn’t mask quite fast enough. 

“Hey,” he says, frowning. “Did that kid hit you back?” 

She turns her head to look at him, caught off guard. “No.” 

He stares at her intently, but she reaches for the door and climbs out, and he wonders momentarily what he’s missing. He shakes his head, scrambling out of the car and following the kids farther into the woods. 

***

By the time they’ve almost reached the cabin, Max is shivering from the cold air. Her jacket is light - not nearly suitable enough for winter - and it’s started snowing. She’s a California girl down to the bone and while she’s still kind of fascinated by the snow, she has a feeling that fascination isn’t going to last long. 

She tries not to think about what Eleven’s reaction to her presence might be. They hadn’t really talked at the Snow Ball, which is the last time she’d seen the pretty brunette. She does clearly remember one moment from that night - when Eleven had seen her dancing with Lucas. The surprise on her face had been obvious, but it had only served to confuse Max even more. She doesn’t understand why El seems to hate her, except that she apparently just has that effect on some people when she first meets them. 

She glances over at Mike, surprised to see him glancing back at her. 

“If you ask me if I’m okay one more time, I’m going to punch you,” she warns. 

Mike simply raises his eyebrows. 

“Hey, no more violence today. Got it?” Steve interjects. “Besides, your knuckles are already swollen enough as it is.” 

Max rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” 

When the cabin finally comes into sight, Mike can’t contain himself any longer, running forward and leaping over the tripwire Nancy had warned him about. Max doesn’t have the energy to run or to jump over it, so she steps over it as gingerly as possible. She’s tired, body aching from everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours, and she sort of wants to just curl up and take a nap once they’re inside. 

She knows that she can’t. She has to be so, so careful. Being around Hopper is going to be a challenge already. She can’t give him anymore reason to suspect what’s going on at home. It’s not like he could do anything about it anyway. 

Law enforcement doesn’t get involved in “family matters.” At least not until someone ends up dead, anyway. 

Lucas shrugs out of his jacket as Mike does some secret knock on the front door, and he wordlessly drapes it around her shoulders. She holds her breath for a second, then reaches out and intertwines her fingers with his. 

Their eyes meet and he gives her a gentle, if not worried, smile. She simply squeezes his hand lightly in an attempt at reassurance. She has to make him -- make _all_ of them -- believe that she is okay. Everytime one of them looks at her like she’s fragile, Max feels a tiny piece of her defenses begin to crack. She can’t let that happen. The stakes are already too high. 

The door flies open and Max jumps, turning to see Eleven standing there, a smile on her face like Max hasn’t seen before. She rushes forward and Mike hugs her tightly, closing his eyes and murmuring her name even as she buries her face into his neck and Max wonders what it’s like to be able to be that open with another person. 

“Hey, what are we? Chopped liver?” Dustin demands, stepping forward. 

El pulls away from Mike, looking at Dustin quizzically. “Chopped liver?” 

“It’s like saying, ‘Hey, we’re all here too, and we’ve also missed you,’” Will explains. 

Her expression softens and she hugs Will next, then Dustin. Then she moves toward Lucas, and Max lets go of his hand instantly, stepping away so the mage can hug him, too. 

“Missed you, too,” she tells the other boys. 

Steve shifts so he’s standing beside Max, glancing at her curiously, but she remains silent. 

“Did they do the knock this time? This only works if we’re consist--” Hopper trails off, looking around at all of them and for a split-second, looking overwhelmed. 

“Yes,” El tells him.

“Not to be a pain, but it feels like ten below out here, and I really need to pee,” Dustin announces, moving past all of them and into the cabin. After that, the rest of the party follows, Max lingering on the porch uncertainly. As though sensing her hesitation, Lucas pauses in the doorway and holds his hand out to her. 

“Come on,” Steve murmurs and she draws in a breath before taking Lucas’s hand and stepping inside the cabin as Steve follows her.

“Hey, Chief. Got any ice, by chance? Or frozen veggies?” he asks as soon as they’re inside and she tries not to sigh.

Hopper arches his eyebrows. “Why?” 

“Because Max’s knuckles are all swollen from getting into a fight with Troy at lunch today,” Lucas supplies and Max feels her cheeks grow warm as Hopper turns to stare at her. 

“Troy,” El echoes, frown settling on her face. “Mouth-breather.” 

“The worst,” Will agrees, nodding. 

For a long moment, there’s tense silence. 

“In the freezer,” he tells Steve finally. “Bag of peas.” 

“Yuck,” Mike mumbles and El smiles at him before looking back at Max, who’s quietly sitting on the couch. 

“Let me see,” Steve says as he sits beside her, holding the bag of peas. 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

He gives her a look, and she sighs, reluctantly holding out her left hand. He whistles. “You really did some damage to yourself.” 

“You should see _Troy_ ,” Dustin brags, plopping down on her right. “She broke his nose!” 

“Good,” Eleven says, and Max looks up at her. The other girl gives her a tiny smile and Max returns it tentatively, wincing when Steve puts the bag of peas on her hand. 

“Girls are the coolest,” Dustin says, looking between Max and El with a grin. 

“Damn right,” Max mutters. 

***

The evening goes surprisingly well. Hopper had stocked up on half a dozen frozen pizzas in anticipation of the kids’ visit with El, and the boys had brought a copy of Gremlins to watch, which Max thinks personally may not have been the best choice, all things considered. Still, everyone seems to be engaged in chowing down and watching the film. 

She heads to the kitchen to get another glass of soda, and when she hears footsteps behind her, she blanches, glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor. “Shit!” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hopper says gruffly and she turns to look at him warily. 

“Max? You okay?” Lucas calls. 

“Everything’s fine,” Hopper assures him. “She just dropped her glass.” 

At that, El rises to her feet and heads into the kitchen. “I can fix it.” 

Max has already knelt down to start picking up the larger glass shards and a soft gasp escapes her as the rest of the pieces float up into the air and the cup begins to reform, solidifying back into place as she watches with fascination. 

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, staring at El with awe as the glass floats to the counter and the brunette wipes the blood from under her nose. 

Eleven stares back at her, and then wordlessly, thrusts her hand out toward Max. “You like Lucas.” 

Max’s gaze darts to Hopper, who reaches for another slice of pizza, pretending not to listen. 

“Yeah…” It’s not really a secret at this point. She’d kissed him at the SnowBall in front of everyone. 

“I like Mike.” 

Hopper snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough.

“I know.” Again, not a secret. At all. 

“We can be friends.” 

Max blinks a couple of times, eyeing the outstretched hand when it suddenly dawns on her. “You thought I liked Mike?” 

El looks uncomfortable. 

She almost laughs. Almost. “El? Until like three days ago, Mike pretty much hated me.” 

“...Oh.” 

Max reaches out finally, and shakes Eleven’s hand. “Friends,” she says quietly. 

“Friends,” El echoes with a tiny smile. They’re both silent for a moment, and then Hopper interrupts. 

“El, would you mind giving me just a minute with Max, please?” 

Dread settles in Max’s bones and she tries not to look as freaked out as she feels. El eyes Hopper warily, then heads back to the living room with the boys.

“Before you lecture me on fighting at school, you should know that Steve’s already been giving me disapproving looks all night, and besides that, Troy deserved what -- “ 

Hopper holds his hand up, shaking his head. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.” 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She suddenly feels nauseous. 

“We got another call about a disturbance at your house last night.” His voice grows quiet. 

Her heart begins to beat a little more quickly. “Everything is fine.” 

“Is it? You sure about that?” 

For one second, she falters. “I’m sure,” she answers finally. 

Hopper sighs. “You let me know if that changes?” 

“Sure thing, Chief,” she assures him even though she knows neither of them believe her. 

“Okay.” His voice is quiet. 

“I’m gonna -- go back and watch the movie with the others now.” 

“Sure thing, Kid,” he murmurs, sighing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another rough one, guys. Physical and verbal abuse triggers ahead.
> 
> ***

The next few days go by quickly. At school, Troy and James, predictably, steer clear of the party. Kids she’s never seen or met before look at her with a mix of admiration and fear on their faces as she passes them in the halls of Hawkins Middle School. She’s constantly anticipating fallout from the fight, but nothing out of the norm happens.

Some part of her suspects she’s gotten by with breaking Troy’s nose because the guy has a tendency of tormenting teachers and school staff in addition to his classmates. 

After school, she spends time with the party doing homework at the Wheeler’s house. At home, she does her best to keep a low profile, staying quiet and doing her best to avoid eye contact with everyone, including her mom. 

Until Thursday night rolls around, anyway. She slips in the front door, still carrying her things with the opposite arm than usual because her right one still aches. She’s halfway to her room when she hears Neil screaming obscenities from the master bedroom. She hesitates in the hallway and the sound of her mom crying makes tears spring to her eyes. 

She deposits her bag and skateboard on her bed, standing still and trying to figure out what, if anything, she could do. It’s the sound of breaking glass that spurs her into action, flying out of her bedroom. 

She makes it two steps when Billy appears in the doorway of his room, darting out just enough to grab her already hurt arm. “Don’t.” 

“Let _go_ of me,” she hisses through gritted teeth. It’s stupid, but she suddenly has a mental image of laying him out on the ground, of pummeling him with her fists the way she had Troy. Of doing the same to Neil. 

To her surprise, Billy releases her arm, but backs into his room and slams the door. 

The house goes silent and her stomach tightens as the door to the master bedroom opens and Neil emerges, glaring at her. “And where the hell have you been?” 

“Studying with friends.” She tries to look past him into the room, tries to see her om and if she’s okay, but his larger frame blocks her view. 

“You spend a lot of time ‘studying with friends,’” he snaps, using air quotes, like he doesn’t believe her. Which he clearly doesn’t. “I swear to god, if you end up _pregnant_ \--” 

“Neil!” Susan appears behind him. “Max is a good girl.” 

“Yeah, sure she is. I haven’t forgotten about that little stunt she pulled back in California.” 

Max holds her breath, determined not to let any emotion register on her face. “Mom, are you okay?” She looks past her stepdad. 

“I’m fine, Sweetheart,” Susan assures her. “We just had a little disagreement, that’s all.” 

Neil snorts and looks back at his wife. “Clean that mess up. Then get your ass out there and clean up the kitchen.” 

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” The words are out of Susan’s mouth before she can stop them, and Max’s eyes widen. 

Neil freezes for a moment, then turns, shoving Susuan into the room and reaching for his belt. 

Panic surges through Max and she grabs the closest thing she can reach -- one of her mom’s Home Interior candle sconces -- and before Neil can start beating her mom with the belt he’s managed to remove, Max brings the glass slamming down against his head. 

He flinches and when he turns around, eyes full of hatred and rage, Max is sure she’s going to die. He reaches out, seizing her by both arms and slamming her up against the wooden door frame so hard that her head starts to spin. The last thing she remembers is her mom’s terrified screaming as the world goes dark. 

***

She wakes to the sound of someone crying, and to the sensation of something cold on her head. She winces involuntarily, trying to escape the coldness. “Stop,” she mumbles. It takes her a moment to realize she’s in her bed, that someone carried her there, and her eyebrows furrow. Her mom is at her side, pressing an ice pack against her temple. 

“I’m so sorry,” another voice whispers, hovering in the doorway across the room. 

“Go away, Neil.” Susan’s voice is cold. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt her that badly. She caught me off guard. I’m sorry.” 

“Leave us alone!” her mother orders. His figure vanishes from Max’s blurred line of sight. “I’m so sorry, Maxi,” Susan whispers. “I’m so sorry.” 

She’s so confused, feeling like she’s missed something important. Neil never apologizes and her mother never tells him to go away. “What’s happening?” 

“He’s leaving. I’m making him go. I should have before, when --” Her voice breaks. 

“It’s not your fault,” Max tells her groggily, struggling to sit up. 

“No, Sweetheart, don’t try and move, okay? Just rest. You need to rest.” 

She relaxes back against her pillows. She doesn’t feel like arguing, the energy zapped out of her. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine now, okay? I’ll fix this.” 

Max sighs a little, letting her eyes drift shut. Sleep takes her again almost instantly. 

***

The next time she wakes, sunlight is pouring through her bedroom window, and the house itself is eerily silent. Her head is pounding, back and shoulder aching from her collision with the wall. She leaves her room cautiously, but Neil is nowhere to be found. She spots her mom at the stove, back to her. The smell of eggs and bacon makes her stomach revolt, and she barely manages to make it to the toilet before she’s throwing up everything she’d eaten at the Wheeler’s the night before. That of course, only serves to make her head pound even worse. 

Moments later, she stares into the mirror, grimacing. Her face is paler than usual, dark circles under her eyes. A bruise has blossomed over her right temple and when she brushes her fingertips against it, it’s tender to the touch. At least it’s somewhat hidden by her hair. 

She nearly runs into Billy in the hallway upon exiting the bathroom and she freezes in her tracks at the black eye and the cut on his left cheek. She tries to remember if he’d looked like that the night before, but she draws a blank. 

He meets her eyes momentarily, nodding at her and then vanishing down the hall without a word. She remains where she’s standing, feeling like she’s glued in place. 

“Sweetheart, it’s getting late! Come eat before you’re late to school,” her mom calls. 

Max has a million questions, but she can’t seem to grasp onto a single one at the moment. She rubs a hand over her face, wondering if she’s stepped into the Twilight Zone. Or worse yet, the Upside Down. 

***

Billy’s waiting in the car for her and she can’t help feeling uneasy as she climbs into the passenger seat beside him. He wastes no time driving them toward the school. She keeps waiting for him to pull over, to drop her at the side of the road, to make her walk the rest of the way. But he doesn’t. 

“Did he do that? To your eye?” she finally asks. 

Billy scoffs. “What do you think?” His tone, for once, isn’t particularly harsh. 

She doesn’t know what to think, she wants to tell him. 

“What you did last night. Defending your mom.” His hands tighten around the steering wheel. “You’re a shit kid, but you’ve got guts.” 

If he’d just told her he was glad they were family, Max wouldn’t have been more surprised. “Thanks?” He grunts in reply. 

They arrive at school only moments later and she slowly gets out of the car. 

“Max.” 

She holds her breath as she looks back, expression guarded. 

Billy meets her gaze. “Try not to break any noses today.” He almost sounds proud. Impressed.

“...right,” she mumbles, heading away from the car. Definitely the Twilight Zone. Or maybe he’s been taken over by Body Snatchers. 

“Max!” Lucas calls, waving at her from by the bike rack, where the party’s gathered. 

She draws in a slow breath and lifts her hand in a return wave as she makes her way toward the boys. “Hey,” she greets. 

Any hope that she’d had that the bruising on her head wasn’t very noticable is entirely dashed by the fact that when she gets close, all four of them stare at her with wide eyes. It’s Dustin who breaks the silence. “Holy shit, Max. What happened to your head?” 

Instinctively, she reaches up to touch the bruise, wincing. 

“Did Billy do that?” Will whispers. 

“ _No,_ ” she answers instantly. “I fell off my board.” The lie comes easily. There’s no need to tell them what really happened. Neil’s gone, anyway. The truth would just upset them. They’d want to involve Hopper. It would be a lot of unnecessary drama. She hates drama. 

“Jesus, Max,” Mike mumbles. “Are you okay? Did you go to the hospital?” 

“I’m fine. A little headache. No big deal. No hospital necessary.” She turns her head to look at Lucas, who’s staring at her with a frown. “Relax, Stalker. I’m okay. But here’s a life tip: don’t try skateboarding after dark. It’s impossible to avoid rocks when you can’t see them,” she quips. She watches Dustin and Mike relax. Will still looks uncertain, and Lucas’s expression remains troubled. 

“Come on. Let’s go to class,” she says, linking he arm through his. He doesn’t argue. 

***

She struggles to pay attention in all her classes that morning. She keeps replaying last night’s events over and over in her mind. Had Billy already been hurt when she’d come home? She knows she ran into him in the hall on the way to break up the fight between her mom and stepdad, but she can’t picture his face at that moment. Would she have even taken notice? She wonders. It’s not like it’s the first time Billy’s face had been battered. It’s a semi-regular thing. 

And she can’t stop wondering what happens next. Will her mom file for divorce immediately? Will they move back to California? (She has super mixed feelings about that possibility.) And how will her mom be able to afford the house they’re in on her secretary’s salary if they _don’t_ go back to California? And what _about_ Billy? He’s not eighteen yet, but her mom also has no custodial rights over him. She doesn’t know if Billy would _want_ to stay with them. She doesn’t know if she’s even okay with that idea herself. 

And what about Neil? She wonders if he’s already packed his things and moved out. And if so, where had he gone? She assumes he’ll have to stay at a motel until he finds an apartment or house of his own. It’s not like _he_ has the option of going back to California. 

The bell signaling lunch rings and Max nearly jumps out of her seat, then clutches her head, barely managing to suppress a whimper. 

She’s in dire need of aspirin, so she makes her way to the nurse’s office, not bothering to stop at her locker and drop off her books first. She doesn’t see anyone around, so she makes her way to the med cabinet, grabs the aspirin bottle and dry swallows three of them, because no way two is going to make a difference. She puts the bottle back into the cabinet and slips out of the office unnoticed.

Max’s stomach turns at the thought of food, so she doesn’t bother standing in line or getting a tray. She makes her way toward the courtyard, wincing at the sunlight that suddenly invades her vision. She shields her eyes with one hand and drops down at the table, first one there. She exhales, letting her eyes close and her head drop to rest atop her books. 

She’s been exhausted all day. Maybe she can just nap through lunch and it’ll help her focus on her afternoon classes. God knows she needs to stay awake in algebra. She’s pretty sure she’d be failing right now if it wasn’t for Lucas’s tutoring sessions. 

She drifts off but only moments later, she feels someone shaking her and she jerks her head up, reeling back away from the person shaking her. She relaxes when she sees it’s just Will. 

“Hey. Lunch is almost over,” he tells her. 

“But I just got here,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

“Max.” Lucas rests a hand on her back. “I think you need to get checked out.” 

“He’s right. You might have a concussion,” Mike agrees. 

She grimaces. “They don’t really do much for those even if I did have one. I’m just tired.” 

“Which is a symptom of concussion,” Dustin points out. 

Will catches her gaze. “I can call my mom,” he offers. “She’s cool. She’ll help.” 

“Or we could get Steve,” Dustin suggests, glancing around at the others. 

“Okay, first --” She looks at Will. “Your mom is working and no offense, but she barely even knows me. And second…” This time she looks at Dustin. “Steve is also at school right now.” And she’s not going to have him get pulled out of class because she has a little bump on the head. “Besides. You guys are all overreacting, okay? I’m fine.” She sighs. “I know all of your names, I know what year it is, I know who’s president. My brain’s not scrambled, so please just...chill out, okay?” 

The four boys exchange worried looks so Max does her best to change the subject and get their focus on something else. “Anyway. What’s the plan for tonight? Or is there one?” 

Mike presses his lips together. “We’re at the Byers’ house tonight.” 

“Do you think you can stay?” Will asks hopefully. 

“Yeah. My mom won’t care,” she says with a shrug. Her mom’s just happy she’s made friends, even if she’s never actually met any of them. 

“We’ll start explaining Dungeons and Dragons to you tonight so you’ll be ready for tomorrow’s campaign,” Lucas tells her with a small smile. She leans into him just slightly, almost unconsciously as she nods. 

“Great.” She smiles back, happy to be included. 

Mike grins at her. “Okay, we better get to class before we get marked absent. Catch you guys after school.” 

She rises to her feet, stomach turning with the movement. She closes her, focusing the best she can on not throwing up. 

Distantly she hears Dustin calling her name, and after a second, she opens her eyes once more. “Stood up too fast. Catch you after seventh period.” She scoops up her books and gives them a little wave. She can feel their eyes on her all the way into the school building. 

Remaining lowkey is so much more difficult when you actually have friends, she thinks. 

***

“What’s going on?” Mike asks as he steps into the AV room and looks around at his best friends. “I got your note,” he tells Lucas. 

“He wouldn’t say til we were all here,” Dustin tells him, leaning back in his chair. 

“Lock the door.” Lucas doesn’t look at any of them. 

“Uh, aren’t we waiting for Max?” Mike looks at him in confusion. 

“No,” he says quietly. “Because this is _about_ Max.” 

The other three boys exchange looks and Mike moves to lock the door, hand lingering on the knob.

“What’s happening?” Dustin asks, staring intently at his friend and waiting for answers. 

“Look, I didn’t say anything before because...it didn’t feel like my place. But….” He blows out a breath. “I think she needs our help.” 

“With Billy.” It’s not a question, and Will’s voice is quiet as he looks across the room, meeting Mike’s eyes.

“Yeah.” Lucas closes his eyes. 

“Wait. Are you saying you think her asshole brother did that to her head?” Dustin’s eyes go wide. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. She told me once that when he gets angry, he takes it out on her.” 

Mike’s fists clench at his sides, jaw tightening as anger surges through him at the thought of Billy doing to _Max_ what he’d done to _Steve._ She’s younger, and tinier and a _girl_ and you don’t put your hands on a girl like that _ever._

“Why wouldn’t you tell us that?” Dustin demands, rising to his feet. 

“Because it wasn’t my place to tell you,” Lucas responds evenly. 

“Friends don’t lie. That’s literally our party’s motto!” 

Lucas stands up, glaring back at him. “I was trying to respect her right to privacy!” 

“Stop,” Mike interrupts, getting in between them. Lucas and Dustin both go silent. “You two can hash this shit out later. Right now we have more pressing issues to deal with.” 

Will meets his eyes once more, then speaks up. “I had a feeling this was happening.” Of course Will would be the one to pick up on what was going on before the rest of them, given his own family history. “I tried to get her to talk to us but she’s too scared.” 

“Yeah, well Billy’s terrifying,” Dustin mutters. “He nearly killed Steve. If she hadn’t drugged him when she had, he probably _would_ have.” 

Mike leans against the desk, memories of that night flashing through his head. Billy had been crazed, lashing out at anyone who got near him. Shit. _Shit._

Lucas sits back down, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I should have done something when she told me.” Weeks ago. She’s been alone with her brother countless times since then and he’d done nothing to try and help her. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Mike says earnestly, shaking his head. “It’s Billy’s.” 

“So what do we do? Talk to Hopper?” Dustin asks, looking around. 

“She’ll kill us,” Lucas mumbles, running a hand over his face. 

“She’ll be alive _to_ kill us,” Dustin points out, and Mike’s stomach turns. He thinks about the bruise she’d shown up with this morning. Wonders how many times it’s happened before. Wonders how many times they’ve not noticed at all. 

Will looks down at his hands. “We could try talking to her. All of us. Tonight at my house.” 

“She’ll know Lucas told us,” Mike murmurs. 

“Not necessarily. Will said he already suspected, and the three of us all saw that dickhead go after Steve,” Dustin counters. “It’s a logical conclusion to draw.” 

The boys look around at once another and then the three look at Lucas, who nods. “And if we can’t get her to talk...I’ll go to Hopper in the morning. I’ll tell him everything.” Even if it means Max will hate him. He’ll do it if it means keeping her safe. 

That’s what matters the most.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I struggled more writing this chapter than any of the others because in the last scene, no one wanted to cooperate with me. They just wound up...doing their own thing, which honestly, turned out better than the first two versions I wrote. It was just frustrating. Anywaaaaay, here we go. 
> 
> **

Steve’s a little caught off guard by Dustin’s sullen mood when he picks him up to take him to the Byers’ that evening. The kid’s _never_ this quiet. He hadn’t looked this upset when Dart had eaten his cat Mews. He casts a sidelong look at him. “Okay. What’s up with you?” 

For a long moment, Dustin doesn’t say anything. He just stares out the windshield. Steve gives him time, knowing he’ll talk when he’s ready. And he does. 

“Okay, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this because I’m not even supposed to _know_ \--” 

Oh this does not sound good. “Is there another gate? More demo-things?” 

“Demodogs. And no. Kinda wish that was what it was though.” He leans his head back against the seat.

“Is anyone possessed?” 

Dustin sighs, somehow managing to sound as exasperated as an old man kicking kids off his lawn. “ _No._ Let me talk, Steve. God.” 

“Okay, okay. Shoot.” Steve falls silent, waiting and wondering what kind of otherworldly bullshit is about to hit the fan this time.

“It’s Max.” 

Oh. Girl trouble. Not much better, Steve thinks grimly. Come to think of it, he’d rather deal with Upside Down shit. At least that’s only terrifying and not necessarily emotionally devastating.

“Listen, Dustin. I know you like her, but --” he begins.

“Billy hurt her.” 

That’s not at all what he was anticipating. He turns his head to look at the younger boy. “What?” 

“She came to school today with a huge bruise on her head. She told us she fell off her skateboard. But she didn’t.” His voice is quiet, upset. 

Steve’s stomach turns at the implications. “ _Billy_ came to school today with a black eye and a big cut on his face.” 

“I guess she fought back.” There’s a hint of pride in Dustin’s voice.

Steve swears under his breath. “So she told someone he hurt her?” 

“Not today, specifically, no.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“She told Lucas awhile back that when Billy gets angry, he takes it out on her. Son of a bitch.” 

Steve doesn’t even get after him for the foul language. “We need to talk to Hopper. Or her mom.” He pauses. “Do you think her mom even knows?” 

“I have no idea. She doesn’t say much about her or her stepdad.” 

Steve exhales, staring at the road ahead. 

“They’ll be pissed I told you, but you’re part of the party, so whatever. We’re going to talk to her tonight at Will’s and if she won’t talk to us, Lucas is going to Hopper in the morning. Or maybe Will’s mom can talk to her or something. She’s cool.” 

He’s so surprised at the first part of Dustin’s remark that he has to struggle to pay attention to the rest. “No. You did the right thing.” His hands tighten around the steering wheel. “I should’ve pressed charges against him.” If he had, maybe this never would have happened at all. Now instead, Max is hurt. 

“Hey. Don’t start that guilt bullshit. We may still need your help and being all broody and morose isn’t going to help any of us,” Dustin says bluntly. 

Steve glances at him again, eyebrows raised. 

“What?” 

“Are you sure you’re only thirteen?” 

“Thirteen going on twenty-one,” he brags. 

“Yeah.” Steve shakes his head. “Sounds about right.” 

***

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Max stands in the doorway of her mom’s bedroom. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sure. I want you to go have a good time at your friend’s house.” It doesn’t go unnoticed that her mom doesn’t ask any information about her friends, including their names. Or wonder about her friends being boys.

She presses her lips together. “What if Neil comes by?” 

“Then I’ll call the police,” Susan assures her. 

Max’s gaze darts around the room, and for a moment, she feels like she’s on the set of a horror film, waiting for the Boogie Man to appear from the closet or the shadows. She moves into the room and perches on the bed, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. She’s not entirely comfortable with the idea of leaving her mom home alone in the house with Billy, either, for that matter. Assuming he even returns to the house tonight at some point.

She tries to ignore the way her head is still pounding, though the aspirin earlier had dulled it somewhat. 

“It’s behind us now, Max. We need to move on.” 

She looks up warily. She’s heard that one before. 

As if sensing her skepticism, Susan moves to sit beside her on the bed, sighing. “I know. I know. But it’s different this time.” 

Max looks away, gaze landing on the wall beside the door, staring blankly at the bloodstain on the egg-shell white paint, dark and dried up now. 

“I already had the locks changed while you were at school today.” 

That surprises her. She looks back at her mom. “What about Billy?” 

Susan sighs softly. “I honestly don’t know yet. I haven’t had a chance to talk with him much about...any of this.” 

Max nods, dropping her gaze to the floor. 

“Sweetheart, is there something you want to say? About Billy?” 

For a moment, she holds her breath. Then she shakes her head. “No. No, I just wondered what was going to happen with him.” 

Her mother pulls her close and Max does her best not to wince at the pain that shoots up her arm, through her shoulder and in her head. Her mom doesn’t seem to notice her reaction. 

“One day at a time. Now why don’t you go get your things ready and I’ll drive you to your friend’s house, okay?” 

She rises to her feet, feeling a little dizzy, but she heads toward the door, but pauses and glances back. “Mom?” 

“Yes?” Susan’s gaze is fixed on the framed wedding photo on her nightstand. 

“I love you.” 

Susan blinks at that, looking up to meet her eyes. “I love you, too.” 

Max’s gaze flits to the photo before she trudges down the hall to her own room. She knows her mom loves her. But she’s not sure her mom loves her more than she loves Neil. 

And she’s a little afraid to find out. 

***

When Mike doesn’t see any of the others’ bikes at Will’s house as he rides up, he assumes he’s the first one there. He drops his bike in the yard and bounds up to the door, knocking once before heading inside, freezing in place when the first face he sees is...Eleven’s.

“El!” A bright smile spreads across his face and he strides forward, hugging her. “Hi!” 

“Hi, Mike.” Her voice is quiet as always as she hugs him back. 

Mike closes his eyes, resting his head atop hers. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“Joyce asked Hop.” She pulls away, looking thoughtful. “Said I need to be more social -ized.” 

Joyce Byers is definitely his favorite adult in the world. “That’s awesome. I’m so glad you’re here.” 

Eleven smiles at him and he grins back at her. 

“Mike?” 

He glances over to see Will standing there, troubled expression on his face and his smile slips as he remembers the serious task at hand tonight. Right. He reaches out and takes El’s hand, tugging her down the hall toward Will’s room, Will leading the way. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks when they’re all inside the bedroom, eyes reflecting worry. 

Will closes the door quietly. 

“It’s about Max,” Mike tells her, voice as quiet as he can make it, just in case Joyce or Jonathan are close by. “She’s in trouble.” 

“Trouble?” Eleven’s eyes widen just a little and she looks at Mike, then Will, then back again, waiting for an explanation. 

Will sinks down on the edge of his bed, falling silent. 

“Remember when I told you about that guy Billy? The one who beat up Steve the night you closed the gate?” Mike leads her over to sit down beside Will and he shrugs his backpack off, dropping it onto the floor. 

“Yes. Wastoid.” 

“Well...Billy is Max’s brother.” 

She frowns at that, staring at him intently. 

“He hurts her,” Will says, voice very quiet. 

Her eyes grow dark. “Bad man.” 

“Bad man,” Mike echoes, dropping his gaze. “The thing is, she doesn’t know we know, but...we’re going to talk to her tonight. So that we can help keep her safe.” 

“Like you did me.” 

He meets her eyes once more, nodding. 

“Okay.” She thinks for a moment. “I can help.” 

A faint smile tugs at Mike’s mouth. “I know. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Will smiles a little at his friends, but it fades quickly and his shoulders slump. “The thing is...she might not want our help. At least not right away.”

Mike presses his lips together, knowing that’s a very distinct possibility. Max may be the most guarded person he’s ever met, and he can’t imagine she’s going to be happy to be confronted about this. 

“Why?” El looks confused. 

“Because...sometimes with families, things are really complicated,” Will tells her, staring at the floor. 

“Oh.” She frowns deeply, looking as worried as Will does and as worried as Mike feels. “But we’ll help her anyway.” 

“Yeah.” Mike squeezes her hand. ”We will.” Whether Max wanted their help or not. Even if she never wanted to talk to any of them again. Because looking out for each other is what friends _do_. 

Especially when your actually family doesn’t.

Or when they just won’t.

***

“Mom? Dad?” Lucas stands in the living room where his parents are sitting on the sofa, talking quietly. His backpack and sleeping bag are already by the front door, ready to go to Will’s when he’s done talking to his parents. 

His mom sits up a little straighter, looking at him with warmth in her eyes. “All ready to go?” 

“Almost.” He moves to sit down in the recliner across from them. “But there’s something I need to ask first.” 

His father leans forward, seeing the seriousness of his posture and tone. “What is it, Lucas? Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” he assures them, looking down for a moment “You know how you’ve always said I can come to you guys if I need help?” 

The Sinclair’s exchange a concerned look. “Whatever it is, you can tell us,” his mom says quietly. 

“I know. And that means a lot.” Lucas hesitates. “The thing is, I have a friend who - can’t really do the same with their parents. And...I think my friend is in trouble.” 

Mrs. Sinclair’s eyebrows furrow for a moment, and then she slowly sits back against the sofa. “Lucas, are you talking about Max?” 

All the air leaves his lungs in a rush. “How do you do that?” 

His dad smiles faintly. “Mother’s intuition.” 

“I’ve known all your other friends for years. Max is the only new one,” she reminds him. She also knows all his other friends’ parents. “What kind of trouble is she in?” 

Lucas looks down at his hands. “The kind where she comes to school with bruises. Her older brother is…” 

“Billy Hargrove,” his father supplies, grimacing. 

“How did you --” 

“It’s a small town, Sweetheart. And people talk,” his mom murmurs, looking worried .

He swallows heavily and looks down, thinking about how horrified Max would be to hear that. “The thing is, I was thinking that we have that nice finished basement with a sofa bed, and --” 

“Max is welcome here anytime she needs a safe place to go,” she interrupts. 

He quickly looks up. “Really?” 

“Of course,” his father murmurs. “We’ll get a few things ready for when she needs to be here.” 

Lucas rises to his feet, moving to hug both of them tightly. “Thank you,” she murmurs. 

His mom kisses the top of his head. “I’m so glad you came to us.” 

“Me too,” Lucas says quietly. 

***

If Max hadn’t had such a screaming headache, she probably would have been more cognizant of the troubled looks being exchanged and directed at her all evening. As it is, the pain is so bad she’s nauseated to the point of considering having her mom come back to pick her up so she can just go home and sleep. The pizza on her plate has grown cold, but she picks a pepperoni off the slice and pops it in her mouth. It’s a struggle to make herself chew and swallow it, its spice prickling at her tongue - normally a sensation she enjoys - but tonight not at all. 

It’s still early but it feels late, probably due to the disruption of her sleep the previous night. She sighs almost inaudibly, glancing toward the kitchen where Joyce Byers is putting away dishes, humming to herself. She sets her pizza plate on the floor between her and Lucas and gets to her feet, heading toward the kitchen. “Mrs. Byers?” 

Joyce turns, giving her a small smile. “Max. It’s Joyce,” she reminds her. 

“Right, sorry. Um - do you have any aspirin?” she asks hopefully. 

The older woman frowns, approaching her with such genuine concern that she almost takes a step back. “Are you getting sick?” She puts a hand to her forehead and Max flinches instinctively. 

“No. Just a headache.” 

Joyce studies her intently, gaze traveling to her right temple, and a faint gasp escapes her. “What happened?” 

“I fell. Last night. Skateboarding. It’s not as bad as it looks,” Max tries to assure her. 

“Well it looks pretty bad. Come into the light where I can see better,” she insists. 

Reluctantly, Max does as asked, letting Will’s mother examine her bruise. 

“Sweetheart, you have a huge gash under your hair,” she murmurs, sifting through the redhead’s hair. “This probably needed stitches.” 

“Head wounds always look bad.” She twists her fingers together, wincing. 

“Does your mom know?” 

“Yeah, of course.” She’d been watching when it happened, Max thinks tiredly. 

“Let’s get you some ice, and I’ll see if I can find some Tylenol. Why don’t you go sit down?” she suggests. 

“Really, you don’t have to go to any troub --” 

“ _You_ are no trouble,” Joyce chides quietly, pinning her with a look. “Now, sit.” 

Max presses her lips together moving to sit at the table quietly, hands in her lap. She closes her eyes, shoulders slumping as she sighs deeply. 

“Are you okay?” 

She opens her eyes to see Lucas standing in front of her. “Don’t worry, Stalker. Just a headache.” 

“Stalker?” Joyce echoes, arching her eyebrows as she approaches with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, and two Tylenol. 

Max smirks faintly and Lucas grimaces. “When I first started at Hawkins Middle, they were all following me around for like two days and thought I didn’t know.” 

“Hey, you kicked ass at video games and you were doing skateboard tricks at school,” he protests. “We thought you were awesome. I mean, you _are_ awesome.” 

“Don’t you mean tubular?” Dustin teases, wandering into the room even as Max downs the Tylenol. 

“Shut up.” 

Joyce sighs. “Boys. Such neanderthals. Why didn’t you just go up and talk to her?” 

“We did. Eventually.” Dustin shrugs. “We invited her to go trick-or-treating with us.” 

She presses the ice pack gently to Max’s head. 

“Then she showed up wearing a Michael Myers mask and scared the _shit_ out of Lucas.” Dustin laughs. 

“Out of all of us,” he responds indignantly. 

Max smiles faintly at the conversation but closes her eyes, feeling like she’s somehow floating away from them. Like everything is blurring into distant white noise. She tries to focus on Lucas’s voice, but after a moment she can’t pick it out amongst the sea of sounds. She feels a weird tingling sensation in her hands and her eyebrows furrow a little.

She thinks something is wrong, but she can’t get her mouth to move or her limbs to work to do anything about it, and after a few more seconds, she gives up, letting herself slip beneath the noise entirely, as the world tilts on its axis. 

***

Lucas doesn’t realize what’s happening until Max pitches forward in the chair, boneless. His eyes widen even as he moves to catch her to stop her from falling. 

“Max!?” he cries out, but instead of responding, her entire body starts to shake. 

“Lay her down on the floor, Lucas,” Joyce orders, moving the chair out of the way and kneeling down beside Max as he gently lowers her to the floor, placing his hand under her head to keep her from hitting it again.

“What’s happening?” Dustin demands, eyes wide as he kneels down beside Lucas on the floor.

“She’s having a seizure,” Joyce answers, reaching out and carefully unzipping Max’s jacket to keep it from choking her as she convulses. “Dustin, get me a cold wash cloth. Lucas, help me get her jacket off.” 

Lucas swallows heavily as he works on getting Max’s left sleeve off and Joyce works on the right one. 

“Does she have a history of seizures?” Joyce asks, looking at Lucas. 

“No, no, not that I know of. She never said anything.” His eyes are warm with tears, but they don’t spill over until he sees the black and blue marks up and down her arms. Joyce inhales sharply at the discovery and Dustin freezes as he returns to their side, cool washcloth in his hand. 

Joyce grabs the cloth from Dustin and gently lays it on Max’s forehead. “Will! Call 911 and tell them to send an ambulance!” she calls into the other room. 

Instantly, the sound of shoes clomping toward the kitchen can be heard and Lucas glances over his shoulder at Mike and Eleven, tears spilling down his cheeks as he meets his friend’s eyes. 

Mike’s own eyes are wide as he stares at Max’s fallen form. “Is she --” 

“She’s having a seizure. Probably from the head injury. She told me she fell off her skateboard last night,” Joyce tells them, gaze landing momentarily on Mike, who swallows hard. “But it seems to me that’s probably not the case here, is it?” 

“She didn’t fall,” Lucas whispers, guilt laced in his voice. 

“Bad man,” El says, voice quiet. 

“Bad man?” Joyce looks over at her momentarily, and then back down at Max as the girl’s body suddenly goes still, limp. She quickly presses her fingers to the pulse point in her neck. 

Dustin kicks the chair, voice shaking when he speaks. “Her brother. Billy Hargrove. Son of a _bitch!_ ”

“He did this to her?” Joyce looks down at the girl’s mottled arms.   
“I think so.” Lucas doesn’t look at her. 

“The ambulance is on the way.” Will’s voice is unsteady as he stares down at Max. 

“Will, Sweetie, I need you to call Hopper for me, too,” she says quietly. “His number is on the fridge.” 

He nods, face drained of all color as he moves back to grab the telephone again. Eleven moves to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder even as her other hand keeps hold of Mike’s hand. It seems to make him relax and Joyce turns her attention back to the girl sprawled out unconscious on the floor. She presses a hand to her cheek, but her skin feels only a little warmer than it should. 

“What do we do?” Mike whispers. 

“We just keep calm until the paramedics get here.” Her gaze rests on Lucas. “Take a deep breath, Sweetheart.” 

He nods wordlessly, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. 

“Hopper’s going to meet us at the hospital. He says El needs to stay here.” 

She frowns and Mike tugs her closer to him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s not safe,” he whispers and she sighs, nodding her agreement, however reluctant it is.

The ambulance sirens sound from outside moments later, and Joyce quickly looks at Eleven. “You need to go into the back and keep out of sight.” 

Mike tightens his grip on her hand and tugs her out of the kitchen and down the hall as Will heads to the front door to open it for the paramedics. They quickly make their way into the kitchen and start examining the unconscious girl, before loading her up into a stretcher and carrying her out the door and to the ambulance. 

“Are we going?” Will asks anxiously. 

“I need to get my purse,” Joyce confirms, nodding and striding out of the room to find it. 

Lucas remains kneeling on the floor, expression shuttered. 

“Lucas. Come on, we need to go,” Dustin tells him, shaking his shoulder. 

“I let her down,” he whispers. “I should have said something sooner.” 

Dustin’s gaze drops to the floor. “Come on. We need to get to the hospital so she doesn’t wake up alone and freaked out.” 

Lucas slowly rises to his feet at that. He really doesn’t want to let her down twice today.


	8. Chapter 8

When she opens her eyes, she closes them again almost instantly, the harsh fluorescent lighting making her stomach turn and her head throb. A soft groan escapes her. 

“You okay, Kid?” 

The voice is unexpected, but familiar. She draws in a slow breath, willing away the nausea, the headache, and Chief Hopper. Much to her irritation, none of them vanish like they’re supposed to. 

“You had a seizure. You’re at the hospital.” 

The words make zero sense, but they do send alarm jolting through her. She tries to sit up, regretting it the second she does, and Hopper hands her a trash can right before she throws up. By the time she’s done, tears are streaming down her face. Hopper has one hand resting on her back, and the other has gathered her hair back out of her face. 

“Easy,” he murmurs with a gentleness she finds herself surprised by. “Breathe. You’re gonna be okay. Doc says you have a nasty concussion, but with a few days rest, you’ll be back to normal in no time.” 

She knows that’s a good thing. “Where’s my mom?” she mumbles as she lies back on the bed. He helps her, but remains sitting on the edge of her bedside. 

“The others are trying to get a hold of her as we speak.” 

“‘Kay.” Her eyes flutter shut once more. 

“You know I gotta ask.” His voice is quiet. 

“I fell off my skateboard,” she says instantly. 

Hopper sighs and she’s not sure why she feels guilty. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that. The thing is, Max...the bruising on your arms and back aren’t consistent with a fall.” 

She says nothing. She learned a long time ago that opening her mouth only made things worse. 

“I know you don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you, but I can make sure your brother never touches you again.” 

“Leave Billy alone.” Her voice is sharp, and she feels surprised by her own defense of the guy who’s hated her since they first met. 

He meets her eyes, cocking his head. “Are you saying someone else did this to you?”  
“I told you, Chief. I fell. That’s all. I was skateboarding in the dark. I hit a rock I didn’t see, and I took a fall.” 

If Hopper didn’t already know better, he’d be tempted to believe her. “I see.” He gazes at her a moment longer, then slowly rises to his feet, setting the trash can down beside her bed just in case she needs it again. “Get some rest, Kid.” 

Max struggles to hold back tears as he quietly leaves her room.

***

Steve makes it to the hospital in a record amount of time when he gets the phone call from Dustin. He shouldn’t be surprised and he _knows_ that. It’s Hawkins, after all. Things going from bad to worse at warp speed is the norm here. He couldn’t entirely understand what Dustin was saying, between how fast he’d been talking and how upset he’d been, but he’d gotten the gist of it: Max was hurt. It was bad. That had been followed by a string of curse words -- some of which Steve had never even uttered -- directed at Billy Hargrove. 

Whom he fortunately sees no sign of in the parking lot, nor in the emergency room as he makes a beeline for the group of pre-teens in the far corner. As soon as they spot him, Dustin launches himself at Steve, hugging him around the waist. Steve hugs him back even as his eyes flicker to Lucas, who’s pacing the floor, then to Mike, Will and Joyce, who are sitting side by side in a line of chairs. 

“What happened?” He looks over at the only adult.

“She had a seizure,” Joyce tells him and he shakes his head. 

“From the head wound?” 

“That’s what we’re assuming,” she murmurs, rubbing Will’s back as the boy stares down at his shoes. 

He lets out a slow breath, looking down at Dustin, whose eyes are red-rimmed. “Hey. She’s a tough kid. She’s gonna be fine,” he tells him. 

Dustin manages a half smile. 

“Hopper?” Steve asks, voice dropping. 

“He’s in with her right now.” 

“So she’s awake?” 

“In and out, I guess. They gave her something in the ambulance. Said she woke up combative.” 

Steve winces at that. “Shit.” 

“Yeah.” He sniffs. 

“What about her mom?” 

“Will’s mom tried calling, but there was no answer.” 

He squeezes Dustin’s shoulder before moving over toward Lucas. “Hey. You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.” 

“I don’t care,” he says flatly. Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, turn. 

He watches the boy pace for a moment. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?” 

“I should have said something weeks ago,” he mutters, not even looking at Steve.

“You were trying to respect her privacy.” 

“Yean and now she’s in a hospital bed because I was so good at _protecting_ her _privacy!_ ” 

Steve holds his hands up in defense, but before he can even respond, Mike rises to his feet. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” 

“No, I _don’t_ know it!” Lucas snaps, whirling to face him. 

Mike moves so they’re standing face to face. “There’s one person who’s at fault here, and it’s _not_ you.” 

Steve, fearing the boys are on the verge of coming to blows given their intensity and stance, clears his throat. “Mike’s right on this one.” 

“Thank you.” 

Lucas huffs and starts pacing again. 

“Okay, everyone take a deep breath. Who wants to come with me to grab something to drink? Dustin?” 

“Sure.” Dustin follows him without hesitation. 

“Great. You can help me carry everything back.” 

“Everything?” 

“To the others.” 

***

“Is she awake?” Lucas all but rushes at Hopper when he walks into the waiting room.

“Yeah, she’s awake.” He presses his lips together, looking over at Joyce, who rises to her feet. “Any luck getting a hold of her mom?” 

“I’m afraid not.” Hopper can read the tension in her posture, the barely held back judgement in her tone. 

“What did she say? Did she tell you about Billy?” Mike and Will and Dustin crowd around him.

“The opposite,” he responds. “She told me to leave him alone.” 

“She’s scared,” Will murmurs. 

“She should be. He’s psychotic,” Dustin retorts. 

“I’ll talk to her. Maybe I can get through to her,” Lucas says quietly. 

“If anyone can, it’ll be you or Will,” Mike says, voice growing softer as he looks at them. 

Steve looks between the kids and Hopper. “I’m guessing you can’t just arrest him unless she admits he hurt her.” 

“Unfortunately not. It would never hold up in the courts. And frankly, without being able to hold him for more than 24 hours, it would probably make things worse for her.” He lets those words sink in, watches the fear and upset spread across every single one of their faces. It makes him want to punch someone. These people, these _kids_ , have been through enough with actual monsters. Now they were having to deal with the realization that sometimes, the worst monsters were the human kind. 

***

“Max?” 

She’s not ready for this. To see him. To see _any_ of them. The vague sense of humiliation that’s been hovering around her settles deeply into her chest. She almost pretends to be asleep. “Hey.” She draws in a breathe, forces a smile onto her face as Lucas lingers in the doorway to her hospital room. 

“Can I --?” 

“Come on in, Stalker.” 

Lucas exhales, stepping into the room and moving over to her bed. “You scared the shit out of us.” 

“Halloween part two,” she quips, picking absently at the thin white hospital blanket draped over her legs. 

He looks down. 

“Sorry. Bad joke, I guess.” 

Lucas hesitates, then sits down on the edge of her bed. “Mrs. Byers is trying to get a hold of your mom, but so far…” 

Worry spikes through her. What if Neil had come back? “No one’s answering the phone?” 

“No. It just rings.” 

Max chews her lower lip, trying not to imagine the worst possible scenario. 

“Max?” 

His tentative tone breaks her out of her thoughts. “Yeah?” 

“I think you should tell Hopper the truth,” he whispers.

For a moment she holds her breath, then she shakes her head. “I can’t.” 

“Why not?” he asks earnestly. “If you tell him, he can hold Billy longer than 24 hours. You’ll be safe.” 

“Lucas, Billy didn’t do anything.” 

His gaze drops. “Max…”  
“He didn’t,” she insists. “Billy didn’t do this to me.” 

“Well, you didn’t fall off your skateboard.” The certainty in his tone makes her go silent for a long moment, her gaze darting to the door, then meeting his eyes. 

“No. I didn’t,” she admits almost inaudibly. 

“Then who…” She sees the second he understands and she tries to calm her nerves with a slow, deep breath, even as his eyes grow dark with anger. “Your stepdad.” 

She looks at her blanket. “It doesn’t matter now.” 

“Of _course_ it matters. Look at yourself! You’re lying in a hospital bed! You have a concussion! You had a _seizure!_ ” His voice rises and she flinches involuntarily. He immediately looks guilt-stricken. “I’m sorry. But how can you say it doesn’t matter?” 

“My mom kicked him out, Lucas. He’s gone. So it doesn’t matter. He’s probably in a different state by now.” Her voice is confident, but she’s not nearly as certain about that as she sounds. 

“What if he’s not?” 

Her breathing hitches. “Lucas, I can’t go to the cops, okay?” 

“It’s Hopper. You can trust him,” he whispers. 

She’s startled when a tear trickles down her cheek and she hastily reaches up to brush it away. “I called the police once. In California.” 

Lucas falls silent, waiting for her to continue. 

“Neil got arrested. Everything went to total shit. My mom was pissed at me, Billy _hated_ me...Neil lost his job. So he moved us here to start over.” 

“Oh, Max,” he murmurs, reaching out and linking his fingers through hers. 

“I can’t do it again. It’s better this way because now he’s gone and it’s over. My mom changed the locks and everything.” She looks down at their joined hands. “I think maybe it just had to get really bad before it could get better, you know?” 

His eyes are worried. “What if he comes back?” 

“I don’t wanna think about what if’s,” she murmurs, eyelids drooping. 

He squeezes her hand, expression softening. “Okay,” he whispers back. 

“Lucas?” Her voice sounds far away to her own ears. 

“Yeah?” 

“Stay?” 

She feels another gentle pressure on her hand even as her eyes slip shut. “You got it, Mad Max.” 

***

“How is she?” 

Lucas looks up from the chair beside Max’s bed to see his other friends at the door, various degrees of worry on their faces. His gaze shifts to Max’s face, relaxed and peaceful for now. He gently eases his hand away from hers and when she doesn’t stir, he moves toward the door. 

Will is the first to back out of the room and into the hallway so they can talk without disturbing her. 

“I think she’s okay,” he murmurs, looking around at them. “She said it wasn’t Billy.” 

“You believe her?” Mike asks, brow furrowed. 

He nods, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Dude. Those bruises on her arms? They were from someone’s fingers,” Dustin whispers, staring at him. 

“Yeah. But not Billy’s.” 

“Then…” 

Lucas exhales, pressing his lips together for a moment. “Her stepdad.” 

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Dustin mutters, turning away. He tugs off his hat, pulling at his hair in frustration. “Son of a bitch.” 

“Then we need to tell Hopper,” Mike says evenly. 

“She doesn’t want the cops involved.” And after hearing why, he can’t say that he blames her. “She said her mom already kicked him out and changed the locks.” 

“Then why didn’t her _mom_ go to the cops?” Dustin demands. 

“I don’t know. She just didn’t.” Lucas isn’t sure what to think about that really. He finds it troubling, at best. At the worst, it’s suspicious. 

Will is silent for a few seconds. “There’s probably a lot of history none of us knows about,” he murmurs. “Sometimes involving the police just makes things escalate.” 

Lucas drapes his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Plus, Billy’s still in the picture. If we tell Hopper that his dad did that to Max, he might go after her next. Or her mom.” 

“So we do nothing.” Dustin folds his arms across his chest. 

“We follow Max’s lead for now,” Mike says, looking around at them. 

“What if following her lead gets her killed, Mike?” 

“What if _not_ following her lead gets her killed?” Lucas retorts, shaking his head.

The four of them fall silent, and Lucas doesn’t feel good about either of the options in front of them. 

“I don’t like this, but I trust Max,” Will whispers. 

“And just in case, we can come up with backup plans to keep her safe if this doesn’t work,” Mike adds.

“Like having El melt their brains,” Dustin mumbles. 

Lucas glances over his shoulder toward the room. “I’m gonna get back in there. She asked me to stay.” 

“There you are.” 

The boys all turn to see Steve heading in their direction, looking annoyed. 

“So the minute I go to the bathroom, you all just take off? Alright, you little shits, back to the waiting room.” He points.

Dustin groans. “We just wanted to check on her, Steve.” 

“You heard Mrs. Byers. One at a time. We don’t want to keep her from resting, or risk overloading her, like that doctor said. So let’s move it.” 

Lucas smirks at the way the other three turn and skulk off toward the waiting room. His gaze flicks to Steve. “Anyone get a hold of her mom yet?” 

“Hopper was going to go over to see if she’s home,” he tells Lucas. “If anything changes, I’ll let you know.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” 

“I’ll come by and stand guard for awhile later so you can rest. Capiche?”

“Okay.” 

Steve pats his shoulder before turning to head toward the waiting room. Lucas rubs a hand over his face and exhales slowly before making his way back into Max’s room once more.

***

The next time she wakes up, it’s Will’s face she sees. He - or someone - has moved the chair as close to the bed as it can get - and he’s sketching something in a pad of paper. 

“Please tell me you’re not drawing me right now.” 

His eyes go wide and he sets the pad behind him. “You’re awake!” 

She can’t help but smile at the excitement in his voice. “So I am.” She reaches out and presses the button on the bed rail that raises her head up. She rubs a hand over her eyes. “What time is it?” 

“Oh, like...five something.” 

“AM or PM?” 

“PM.” 

She stares at him, stunned she’d slept that long. “They must have given me something.” She looks at the IV in her hand. 

He suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Uh, they said you got a little combative in the ambulance last night,” he tells her. 

“I don’t even remember waking up in the ambulance,” she mumbles. “Has my mom been here?” 

Will shakes his head. 

“What about the others?” 

“They’ve only been letting one person in with you at a time,” he says. “They’re afraid we’ll overwhelm you or something. But we’ve all been here. I mean, except El. I think Mike went home for a little while, and my mom had to go to work, but Dustin and Lucas and Steve are all in the waiting room.” 

Max bites her lip, nodding. “Sorry I ruined the party.” 

Will’s eyes widen once more and he leans in, reaching out and taking her hand without thinking about it. “No, it’s totally fine. I mean, it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay, you know?” 

The sincerity in his voice makes tears sting he eyes. Embarrassed, she swipes them away with her free hand. “Stupid head injury,” she grumbles. 

“Max, it’s okay,” he whispers. “I get it. Probably better than anyone.” 

At that, she grows still, but lifts her gaze to meet his. “What do you --” 

“My dad. But he’s...out of the picture now. I haven’t seen him in ages.” He offers her a tiny sad smile. 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is strained and she squeezes his hand. 

“Me too.” Will hesitates. “Has this happened before?” 

“Not like this. Not...ever this bad.” Another tears zig-zags down her face and this time she doesn’t bother to brush it away. When she glances at him again, she sees the tears shining in his eyes, too. “Usually Billy’s his target,” she whispers. 

“And you’re Billy’s.” 

“Billy’s never - done anything like _this_ to me.” An occasional shove or grab that’s left marks. Kicking her out of his car so she’d be late to school. But he’d never injured her badly enough she needed medical attention. 

Will brushes a hand over his eyes. “I’m glad your mom kicked him out.” 

“Me too. I just wish…” 

“What?” 

 

“That she’d done it a long time ago.” 

“Does he -- hurt her, too?” There’s worry in his tone and she knows he’s thinking about his own mom, and she wonders if his dad had beaten Joyce Byers. 

“Yeah. Sometimes,” she murmurs. 

“Does he drink a lot?” 

“No. He’s just a piece of shit,” she tells him. “Did your dad drink?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “All the time. But it was mostly the stuff he’d say.” He drops his gaze. “That was the worst. 

Max squeezes his hand. “It wears you down.” 

“Yeah.” He nods his agreement. 

“He was nice to me at first.” Max’s voice grows distant. “He acted like he wanted to be my friend. But I knew it was just an act. All he cared about was marrying my mom as fast as he could. God, I hate him so much.” 

Before Will can can say anything in response, she hears the familiar sound of boots approaching the door and she tenses involuntarily, face paling when she turns her head to look at the figure standing there. 

Billy.


	9. Chapter 9

For a moment, she feels like she’s frozen solid. Like time stops as Billy stands in the doorway, staring at her, expression too shuttered to read. It feels like there’s ice in her veins and she lets go of Will’s hand even though he’d tightened his grip on hers. Her heart is pounding. Sometimes she’s good at figuring out body language - posture, muscle tension, facial expression - they all play into her ability to determine a person’s mood. 

Now is not one of those times. 

She wishes that Will wasn’t right there, in the possible line of fire, because she has no idea how Billy knows she’s even there, and she has no idea what he wants. 

She senses, rather than sees, Will rise to his feet beside her. “You shouldn’t be here.” She’s struck by the firmness in his voice. The confidence. She’s never heard him sound like that before. 

Billy quirks an eyebrow and steps farther into the room. “How many boyfriends do you actually have, Max?” His tone is bemused and she feels like this is dangerous territory because she knows how fast his moods can change. 

“He’s my friend.” She hopes right now that the fact they’re in a public place, that she’s lying in a hospital bed and hooked up to an IV might work to her advantage, even as her fingers inch toward the nurse call button. 

Billy narrows his eyes. “I wouldn’t.” 

The unspoken threat makes her go still. “Billy--” 

“Scram, Tiny Byers,” he says casually, inclining his head toward the door. 

“Go,” she tells Will, breaking her gaze away from Billy to address Will. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he whispers, shaking his head. 

“What is it you think you can do here, exactly?” Billy chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. “I’m three times your size, and besides. Word has it my shitbird little sister here is _your_ protector.” 

“Billy, shut up!” Max snaps, head starting to ache. “Will, go. Please. I can handle him.” She hopes. 

Will’s jaw tightens and he fixes Billy with a cool glare before reluctantly striding toward the door. “If you lay one finger on her? We will _end_ you.” There’s no hint of kidding in his tone. He leaves before Billy has a chance to respond to the threat. 

Billy watches him go, eyes narrowed as he shakes his head and looks back at her. “You must give great head to have all these little shitstains fawning over you.” 

“Fuck off,” she snarls, pressing the button on her bed to sit up more. “You are such an asshole. What are you even _doing_ here?” 

“I came to check on you.” Billy moves to stand at her beside, too close for comfort. 

“Don’t get too excited. It’s not a mortal wound,” she says flatly. 

He smirks, gaze shifting to the IV. “They giving you anything good in there?” 

Max stares at him silently. 

“Susan will be here soon. She was taking a shower when I left. Chief Hopper left a message on the front door that you were here.” His eyes narrow as he stares at her. 

“She’s okay?” Her relief is instant, and intense enough that she lets her guard drop momentarily. 

“She’s fucking freaked out is what she is. Christ, I had no idea you were this goddamn dramatic, Maxine.” He motions at her, at the bed, at the IV. 

“Yeah, because I _wanted_ to be here,” she responds with every ounce of sarcasm she can muster. 

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved in their argument and you _wouldn’t_ be here.” 

She digs her nails into the palms of her hands unconsciously. “He was going to hurt her!” 

“Then maybe she needs to learn the same lesson that you do about keeping your mouth shut!” His voice rises as he leans over her. 

Max cowers against her pillows, and feels an instant flash of self-loathing at her response. Hot angry tears sting her eyes. 

“Back away.” 

The siblings both look toward the door to see Joyce Byers standing there, looking as pissed as Max has ever seen her. 

“Can I help you?” Billy smiles at her, turning on his signature charm to its full volume.

“Yes, actually. You can follow directions and _back away_ from Max.” Joyce wasn’t having any of it. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“Joyce Byers,” she answers, leveling him with a steely gaze. 

“Well, Ms. Byers...Max is my little sister.” 

“I’m aware.” She moves past him to Max’s bedside, expression softening as she reaches out and smooths some hair out of the redhead’s eyes. “How are you feeling, Sweetie?” 

Her gaze darts between Billy and Joyce. “I’m good. Fine.” 

Joyce studies her. “You should be resting.” She cups Max’s cheek in one hand. “Just lie back and try to relax, okay? The doctor was very specific about no stress.” She presses the button on Max’s bed, making the head portion of it recline. 

Max wants to relax, but it’s the last thing she feels at the moment. Will’s mom gives her a reassuring smile before turning to face her stepbrother again. 

“Why don’t we step out into the hallway so that your sister can get some sleep?” she suggests, but it’s the tone of her voice that makes it less of a suggestion and more of a command. 

Billy narrows his eyes, shooting Max a look before turning and heading for the door. Joyce follows wordlessly, pulling the door closed behind her. 

***

“Mrs. Byers, I don’t know exactly what Maxine old you --” Billy begins. 

“Ms. Byers. I’m divorced,” Joyce informs him, tone as controlled as it can be considering how angry she is. Her arms are folded against her chest. “And what Max told me is that she fell off her skateboard and hit head head pretty hard on the pavement.” 

Everything she needs to know, she sees with the surprise that flickers over his face, however briefly. 

“Now, I don’t know how much you’ve been told about your step sister’s condition, but she has a concussion and it’s bad enough that last night she had a seizure at my house. It’s why she’s now here at the hospital.” 

She feels momentary satisfaction at the way his eyes widen and he glances toward the closed hospital room door. 

“The doctors have explicitly stated she’s not to be stressed out under any circumstances, which means she’s not to be doing anything or being around anyone that might upset her.” Their gazes lock and Joyce raises her eyebrows. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?” 

Billy stares at her for a moment. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I’m sure that when Chief Hopper comes by in a little while, he’ll be glad to hear it, too.” 

His jaw tenses and he looks away. 

“It was nice of you to come by and check on Max. We’ll be making sure she’s taken care of around the clock. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She gives him one last look, eyes intense, before heading back into the room. 

She draws in a slow breath before moving into Max’s line of sight, giving the younger girl a reassuring smile as she moves to sit on the chair beside her bed. The way her gaze darts nervously to the door behind Joyce breaks her heart. 

“He’s leaving,” she tells Max gently. “Don’t worry, okay?” 

Max manages a small smile. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“It’s not, huh?” There’s no judgement in her tone. “It seemed like a big deal when I came in.” 

“He’s just...kind of a jerk sometimes.” 

Joyce reaches out, resting a hand on Max’s arm. “And it’s not okay for him to treat you that way.” 

She watches Max bite her lip. 

“He wasn’t always so…” She waves her hand around vaguely. 

“Angry?” Joyce guesses. 

“Yeah.” She nods. 

“Anger isn’t a good excuse for what he was doing when I walked in.” Her voice is hushed. “There’s no excuse for it.” 

“I know.” Max lays her head back against the pillows. 

Joyce is quiet for a moment. “Is your head hurting?” 

“Yes,” she admits, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. 

“You’re about due for more medicine.” She pats her hand, glancing up when she sees movement at the door. An older, petite redhead stands there, face drained of all color and a hand pressed against her mouth.

Joyce rises to her feet. “I’ll see if I can track down a nurse. I’m assuming this is your mom?” 

Max shifts on the bed and struggles to sit up a little. “Yeah. Thanks, Ms. Byers.” 

“Joyce,” she corrects her, smiling softly before walking toward the door. She pauses in front of Max’s mom. “You’ve got a really great kid here, Mrs. Hargrove.” 

The redhead nods but her gaze remains only on Max. 

Joyce hopes that maybe seeing her daughter lying in a hospital bed will snap her into immediate action as far as Billy’s concerned. Because it it doesn’t, she’s honestly not sure what will. 

***

“Hi, Mom.” Max’s voice is a little hesitant because her mom hasn’t said anything to her, she’s just standing there, staring.

“Oh, Sweetheart.” Susan’s voice breaks and she finally crosses the room to the bed, reaching out and grasping Max’s hand. “What _happened?_ ” 

“Oh. I apparently have a concussion.” She looks down at her mom’s hand, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible as she gazes at the simple gold band on her finger. 

“I...what did you tell the doctors?” Her mom sounds nervous now and Max tries to ignore the hurt that seeps into her veins. 

“I told them I fell off my skateboard.” 

Susan reaches out and smooths hair from Max’s face, tucking it behind her ear and wincing at the bruising on her temple. Max tries _not_ to wince at the featherlight touch. “You’re such a good girl, Max.” She kisses her forehead. “I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?” 

Her voice is small when she answers. “Because I lied about what happened?” 

“For knowing and understanding all the reasons being honest could ruin our lives,” she murmurs. “Social services would get involved. They’d take you away. I don’t know where you’d end up.” Her voice wavers. 

“Would they? Even though Neil’s gone?” she asks, uncertain. 

Susan pauses. “I don’t know, Max. They might.” She sighs and sits down in the seat Joyce had vacated. “Who was that who was here when I came in?” 

“Joyce Byers. She’s my friend’s mom.” 

“Oh, yes. The house where I dropped you off last night.” She nods, gaze distant. 

“Mom? What took you so long to get here?” she asks finally, unable to help herself. 

“I was trying to tie up some loose ends. Nothing to worry about. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” 

Max wonders what she means by that, but she doesn’t push her mom for anymore answers. She glances up when one of the nurses -- Carol, Max thinks -- walks in. 

“Ms. Byers said your head was hurting again. Good thing it’s time for more medicine.” She smiles at Max and hands her a little paper cup of pills and a glass of water. 

“Thank you.” She quickly swallows down the pills and grows still, allowing Carol to check her blood pressure. 

“Max, Sweetie. I’m going to go get some coffee. I’ll be back.” Her mom squeezes her hand and heads for the door, not seeing the way Max’s face falls at her departure. 

“It’s hard for mothers,” Carol murmurs. “Seeing their kids hurting and not being able to help.” 

She can’t help but wonder if that really matters to her mom, considering how often her mom’s seen her hurt in the last few years. She’s not up to arguing with the nurse who’s just trying to be helpful, though. She’s not even up to responding, so she doesn’t. She just sinks back into her pillows. She just wants to sleep. Maybe that will quiet all the noise in her head for awhile.


	10. Chapter 10

“Mad Max. You there?” 

Max casts a quick glance at the door before pulling her hand-held radio out from beneath her bed, clutching it in one hand. “I’m here,” she tells Lucas, a tiny smile touching her mouth. “How was school?” 

“Okay, I guess. It’s boring without you.” 

Before she has a chance to reply, the radio crackles to life and she hears Mike’s voice. “You’re supposed to say _over_ when you’re done. Over.” 

She can’t help but grin as she pictures the eyeroll that she has no doubt Lucas just did. 

“Hi, Max!” Will’s voice chimes in. “We miss you! Over.” ‘

“Miss you guys, too,” she admits, leaning back against her headboard. “Over.” 

“Troy’s still avoiding the shit out of us,” Dustin informs her with unmistakable pride in his voice. “Over.” 

She thinks that’s great, because she’s been warned that any altercations might be dangerous, especially for the next few weeks. Troy isn’t the person she’s worried about avoiding for that long of a time span, though. 

Since being discharged from the hospital a few days ago, Billy’s been on his best behavior. He’s stayed away from her entirely even though she can hear him across the hall playing music or talking on the phone of an evening after school. 

“Hi, Max,” a new voice cuts in and her eyes widen slightly. 

“E - Jane?” She wants to kick herself for the near slip. She doesn’t know that any of the bad men are listening in on their conversations, but she doesn’t want to risk it either. 

“Yes. Over.” 

She smiles, happy to hear the other girl’s voice. “I guess the hooligans got you a radio, too.” 

“Hooligans?” 

“Like, dorks. Troublemakers.” 

“Hey!” She hears all four of them protest and she laughs, and so does Eleven. 

“Nobody’s saying over,” Mike complains. 

“God, you shitheads make it hard to study for a Calculus test,” another voice says and Max’s eyebrows arch. 

“Hey, Steve. Over.” 

She can practically hear the smile in his voice when he responds. “Hey, Max. How are you feeling?” 

“Bored as shit,” she responds. “But the good news is the doctor says I can come back to school on Monday.” 

“Awesome,” Lucas exclaims. 

“Want me to come by and pick you up Monday morning?” Steve offers, and she pauses, uncertain how to answer that.

“Hey! You didn’t offer to pick _me_ up,” Dustin complains.

“Because you aren’t recovering from a concussion, Shithead,” Steve retorts. “Max, what do you say? Interested?”

She chews her lower lip for a moment. “Okay. I’ll wait for you at the road.” Even with Neil gone, no way she’s going to risk Steve coming to the door with Billy still around. 

“Sounds good,” he tells her, not asking questions, which she’s grateful for. 

“How’s your head?” Eleven cuts in and everyone goes silent. 

“Better. Really. No more seizures or dizzy spells.” Or vomiting, but that’s disgusting, so she doesn’t mention it. She can practically hear Mike sigh with annoyance. “ _Over._ ” 

“Are you still under house arrest for the weekend? Over,” Lucas says. 

“I might be able to escape for a little while tomorrow. But...not the arcade.” She sighs. “Over.” 

“Too loud,” Dustin agrees. 

“And too many bright lights,” Mike adds, stressing his next word. “Over.” 

“And too many people,” Lucas responds. “Over.” 

“We could watch a movie at my house,” Will offers. “Over.” 

Max wonders if her mom will let her do that. Go see her friends for just a couple hours as long as she’s doing okay in the morning. “I can let you know for sure tomorrow. Over.” 

She hears a car pull into the driveway. 

“Jane, do you think you can make it?” Mike asks hopefully. “Over.” 

“I’ll asks,” she says softly. “Over.” 

Dustin and Lucas start making kissing noises. 

“Shut up, assholes,” he complains. 

Max grins even as she hears the front door open. “I gotta go. My mom’s home. I’ll check in later. Over.” 

“Bye, Max,” they chorus and she smiles softly, turning the volume most of the way down and sliding the radio under her bed once more. 

“Max?” Her mom opens the bedroom door. “Did I hear you talking to someone?” 

“No,” she answers, raising her eyebrows. She’s not ready for her mom -- or Billy, specifically -- to know about her radio just yet. She’s not sure she’ll ever be ready for Billy to know about it, considering his propensity for breaking her things. 

“Hmm,” her mother hums, glancing around like she’s expecting to see one of the guys hiding in her closet. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” she assures her. “I’m actually looking forward to going back to school on Monday.” 

“Wow. You must be really bored,” Susan teases. 

“Incredibly.” She hasn’t even been able to read, because the doctor had warned against doing anything that required too much concentration or that might cause eye strain, saying it could cause her headaches to get worse again.

Basically all she’d done is lie in bed, occasionally listening to music and occasionally napping. In the afternoons before her mom and Billy would get home, she’d talk with her friends. She’s trying to ignore how lonely she feels because dwelling on it won’t help and it’s not like her friends can come over. It’d probably be fine as long as her mom was there. Billy wouldn’t try anything with her around. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t go after them at school. 

She’s dying to see them, but she won’t put them at risk to do it, either. 

“Do you feel up to having dinner at the table tonight?” 

Max perks up immediately. “Yeah, definitely.” She knows her chances of getting to go to the Byers’ tomorrow will increase if she can prove she’s capable of doing things like sitting up. She’ll even offer to do the dishes. 

***

Volunteering for dish duty last night had done the trick. The next day she finds herself standing on the Byers’ front porch, waiting for someone to answer. 

The door opens and she’s immediately pulled into Joyce Byers’ arms. “Hi, Sweetheart. How are you feeling?” 

“Good. No more headache,” she tells her, leaning into the embrace. 

“Thank God.” Joyce pulls away to look at her, studying her intently. She waits until Joyce seems to relax, and then she offers her a smile. 

“I just tossed some pizzas in the oven for lunch.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Joyce smiles at her and almost as soon as she steps away, Will grabs her in a huge that she isn’t expecting. “Hi, Max.” 

She’s not used to this much physical affection, but she hugs him back, closing her eyes. 

“Lucas is going to be so happy to see you. Everyone is.” Will grins at her. “Steve’s coming over, too. We weren’t sure what you wanted to watch, so Mike’s bringing a bunch of movies, and Lucas and Dustin are both bringing some, too. I told them I didn’t think you’d be interested in Star Wars, plus you said you could only stay for a couple hours.” 

“Slow down, Will. Let her take her coat off,” Jonathan teases as he walks into the room. “Hey.” 

Max lifts her hand in a wave. She hasn’t really spent any time around Will’s older brother. “Hey.” 

“You’re the first one here,” Joyce tells her. “Make yourself comfortable, okay?” 

“Thanks, Mrs. -- Joyce.” She moves to sit down on the sofa. 

Joyce winks at her and disappears into the kitchen. 

“I’m on my way to meet Nancy,” Jonathan tells them, heading for the door. “You two behave and try to still have fun. Max, glad you’re doing better.” 

“Thanks.” 

He heads out of the house, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Will plops down on the couch beside her. “You look a lot better.” 

“I feel better,” she says honestly. 

He’s quiet for a moment. “How are things with Billy?” 

“He’s been on his best behavior. He hasn’t bothered me at all.” She glances at him sideways. 

Will meets her gaze and nods. “I’m glad. We were worried.” 

She looks down. “Billy’s...angry a lot.” Her voice is quiet. “And I know everyone thinks he’s dangerous and he is but...he rarely ever hurts me.” 

“Even once in awhile isn’t okay,” he whispers. 

She nods, falling silent. 

“You could stay here, you know. I mean, Mom and Jonathan would be okay with it. You could even have my room. I could move in with Jonathan.” 

Max turns her head to look at him, eyes widening. But before she can say anything, the doorbell rings. 

Will grins at her, then jumps up to answer it. She rises more slowly and blinks when she sees someone, arms piled high with movie tapes. “Steve?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” She and Will both reach out to grab some of the tapes. “Okay, you. Sit.” He inclines his head toward the sofa. 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m practically back to normal.” 

“Practically, but not totally. Dustin, get your ass up here and carry some of this so Max will sit down.” 

Dustin pushes past him and into the house grabbing the tapes she’d taken off the stack and grinning sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’m not broken.” She sighs.

“It was a close call though. Are you feeling okay?” Steve carries the rest of the tapes in, making his way toward the sofa and setting them down. He moves to Max’s side. 

“I’m okay. Really. I haven’t had a headache since Wednesday.” Her cheeks feel warm as she realize they’re all looking at her with various degrees of worry. It feels strange, but also good. New. 

“Good.” Steve smiles at her. “Let’s keep it that way. Sit.” 

She sighs and drops onto the sofa, picking up a couple of the tapes. “Better?” 

“Yes. Thank you. If we could go a full week without trying to give me a heart attack, that’d be great,” he says wryly. 

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth and he winks at her before turning to Will and Dustin. “Where are the other shitheads?” 

“They’re on the way.” Dustin shrugs and moves to sit at the other end of the couch. “Have you seen that one?” 

She glances at the VHS she’s just picked up. “The Fox and the Hound? No.” There’s skepticism in her voice. 

“Hey, it’s a great movie,” he defends.

“He’s right. It’s about this fox who ends up becoming best friends with a dog even though the dog is supposed to hunt foxes,” Will tells her.

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster.” Actually what it kind of reminds her of is Dustin and Dart. There’s a sort of sad smile on his face and she wonders if that’s what he’s thinking about, too.

“But I’m in.” She shrugs. 

Dustin’s face lights up. “Cool.” 

“A little help here,” Mike calls from the doorway, nearly dropping his armload of tapes when Lucas runs into him from behind. “Hey, watch it!”   
“I can’t help it! I can’t see where I’m going!” 

Max rises to her feet, eager to see Lucas, whom Steve and Dustin move to help with tapes, while she and Will grab tapes off Mike’s stack. 

“What happened to sitting?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows. 

She gives him an exasperated look. “ _Steve._ ” 

“ _Max._ ” 

Lucas steps in, dropping all his tapes amongst Dustin’s on the couch and turning to face her. He reaches out for her hand and tugs her gently down the hall, away from the others before turning to look at her again. 

“Hi,” she says quietly. 

“Hi,” he whispers, searching her eyes for a moment, before stepping closer and pulling hyer into a hug. 

She wraps her arms around him and closes her eyes, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

“I really missed you,” he whispers, tightening his arms around her a fraction.

“Me too, Stalker.” She hadn’t realized just how much so until right then. 

“You’re really okay?” He pulls away to look at her. 

“Yeah.” She gives him a tiny smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Steve keeps trying to make me sit down, though.” 

“Steve has a point,” he tells her gently. 

She sighs. 

“I know it sucks, but you need to take it easy. Like the doctors said.” 

Max gives him a contemplative look. “I guess if you’re going to take it easy _with_ me, I can manage.” 

Lucas smiles at her, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I think I can handle it.” 

***  
Steve drops her off at home two and a half hours later and she waves at him over her shoulder, startled when her mom greets her at the door. She frowns at her mom’s apprehensive expression. 

“Hi, Sweetheart. Did you have fun with your friends?” Susan’s tone is hopeful. 

“Yeah, it was great. We just watched a movie and ate pizza and popcorn,” she tells her as she steps into the house. 

“That sounds nice.” 

Something’s wrong. There’s a hint of nervousness in her mom’s voice and Max watches as she closes the door. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m more than okay. Max, I have good news and I really want you to try and be open-minded about it.” Susan folds her hands in front of herself and Max feels her stomach drop as she glances to where Billy’s sitting on the couch, expression perfectly neutral. 

“What’s going on?” She can’t help but ask, looking from her mom to Billy. She hears footsteps approaching and she turns to see Neil standing a few feet away. 

“Hello, Maxine.”


	11. Chapter 11

Seeing her stepfather standing in front of her in her living room feels like a punch to the stomach. For a moment all she can do is stare because her limbs feel heavy, like they’ve turned into Billy’s useless weights.

“Sweetheart, sit down so we can talk,” Susan urges her, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

Max shrugs her off, moving slowly, stiffly to the couch to sit down on the opposite end as Billy. When she looks at him, there’s no emotion on his face. His eyes are dull. He’s apparently completely unsurprised by this development. 

She’s not sure why she is, but she hates herself for believing this chapter of her life was over. Hates that she let her guard down and trusted her mother when she said she was done with Neil. 

“I made some mistakes,” Neil begins, his voice quiet as he sits down in the recliner across from them. “A lot of them. I’m going to try and make amends for things. Especially with you, Max.” 

She says nothing, staring at him. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” he starts, and a harsh bubble of laughter escapes her before she can stop it. 

“Except when you beat me with your belt?” 

Billy tenses beside her, but he says nothing. 

“And what about Billy? Are you going to make amends for all the times you’ve hurt him, too?” 

Neil falls silent, simply staring back at her. 

“Max,” Susan whispers, tone soothing. “People make mistakes.” 

She rises to her feet. “Mistakes?” Her chest feels hollow. “A mistake is when you trust someone you know you shouldn’t. It isn’t punching your son in his face because you don’t like the way he wears his hair, or throwing someone into a wall and nearly bashing their skull in!” 

Tears shine in her mom’s eyes, but Max isn’t sorry. 

“Maxine, if you’ll sit down so we can discuss this rationally --” Neil says, and she glares at him. 

“It’s _Max._ And there’s nothing to discuss. I don’t accept your bullshit apology.” She stomps down the hall, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. 

Tears stream down her face as she sinks slowly to the floor, burying her head in her hands. How could she have been so naive to think things were actually going to get better?

How stupid could she be?

***

It takes every ounce of self-restraint she has not to leave the house. She stays locked in her bedroom, ignoring her mom when she knocks on the door to tell her it’s dinner time. She’s hungry, but her appetite instantly vanishes when she hears Neil’s voice down the hall. 

Around eight thirty, she hears Lucas trying to call her on the radio. She wants nothing more than to answer it, but she’s too afraid that Billy or Neil might over hear her, and she’s too embarrassed to admit that her mother let Neil move back in. She can’t bring herself to respond. 

She curls up in bed and cries herself into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

***

Steve’s half asleep at his desk when his radio crackles to life. He’s still a little shocked the kids had given him one to begin with. He picks it up, fiddling with it and changing the channels like Dustin had shown him, until the crackling stops. “Hello?” 

“Steve?” The voice is faint, hesitant. It’s also unmistakable and worry shoots through him, waking him up the rest of the way. 

“Max? You okay?” 

There’s a moment of silence and just as he’s about to grab his jacket, keys, and bat, she answers. 

“I’m okay. I don’t need a ride in the morning after all.” 

Steve’s gaze shifts to his alarm clock. Almost 2 AM. Christ. “Did something happen?” 

“Billy’s giving me a ride.” 

He grimaces. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” At least he knows she’ll be safe if he picks her up. He doesn’t have that same piece of mind when it comes to Billy. 

“I’m sure. Thank you.” Her voice sounds off. Hollow.

He hesitates, then lowers his own voice. “Are you safe right now? Because I can come and get you.” 

The line is silent. 

“Max,” he urges. “I can help.” 

“I’m okay. I’m sorry if I woke you.” 

“You didn’t. I was just working on an essay.” At least until he’d nearly fallen asleep on it. But she doesn’t need to know that part. 

“Oh.” 

“Hey. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can be there in three minutes if I ignore the speed limit.” 

“I just can’t sleep. Not a big deal.” 

She’s lying. He’s not sure how he knows it but he does. If there’s a single mark on her in the morning, Steve swears he’ll strangle Billy Hargrove to death with his bare hands. 

“I’d offer to sing you a lullaby, but it definitely wouldn’t help.” He hears a faint snort followed by a chuckle and he smiles. At least he made her laugh. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” she says quietly. 

“Night, Max,” he echoes, reluctantly setting the radio back down on his desk. A half hour later when he finally crawls into bed, he takes it with him. Just in case.

***

Monday morning comes all too soon and yet not nearly soon enough. Max is starving and exhausted, having only sneaked out a handful of times over the weekend since Neil’s return. Shortly after talking with Steve, she’d tiptoed her way into the kitchen, snagging cheese and bread for a sandwich before returning to the safety of her room and locking herself in once more. 

This morning she reluctantly packs her backpack, showers, and gets dressed before making her way to the kitchen. She fully intends on grabbing a Poptart and waiting outside for Billy.

“Sit down, Maxine,” Neil tells her as soon as she’s grabbed her makeshift meal. She contemplates simply walking out without a word, but his tone of voice signals she’s treading dangerous waters. 

She sits and says nothing. She doesn’t look at Neil nor at her mom. 

“I understand that you’re upset with us. But we are a family, like it or not, and you’ve had the entire weekend to throw this little tantrum of yours. It’s time to change your attitude.” 

Max’s gaze focuses past him, on the vase of yellow roses that are on the counter. Her mom’s favorite. Max’s least favorite. They’re one of Neil’s signature apology gifts. 

A foot nudges her and she glances at Billy, who’s staring at her intently. She wonders how he can be okay with any of this. 

“Maxine. Are we clear?” 

She turns her head to look at her stepdad, gaze icy. “Crystal.” 

He stares back at her. “We’ll talk more about this tonight. You two get to school.” 

Max rises to her feet, grabbing her bag off the floor where she’d set it, and walking out the front door without so much as a backwards glance. 

When Billy climbs into the driver’s seat a moment later and starts his camaro, he taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “You didn’t really think it was the end of the story, did you?” 

She stares out the passenger side window as he backs out of the driveway, not bothering to respond. 

“Lesson number one, Max. It’s never really over. Not for people like you and me.” 

She lays her head against the glass. She’s starting to understand that.

***

By the time lunch rolls around that day, she’s tired just from pretending she’s okay and that everything is fine, but she does her best to keep up the act. She tells Lucas she’d slept so much the week before that she didn’t sleep last night -- which is true, even if the reason she gives him isn’t. 

Friends don’t lie. 

She’s a shitty friend then, because it feels like all she does is lie to everyone all the time. 

At the end of the day, she’s not surprised to see Steve’s sienna beemer in the front row of the parking lot. He’s leaned against it, sunglasses on and when he spots her, he lifts his hand in a wave. 

She draws in a breath, heading toward him slowly with a smile pasted on his face. “Did you ditch your last class or something?” 

“Yes, actually. But it’s just study hall,” he assures her. “Hop in.” 

Max hesitates, then shakes her head. “I can’t.” 

Steve pulls his glasses off, searching her eyes. “Did he do something last night?” His voice drops. 

“No.” Her eyes scan the parking lot for any sign of BIlly or the others. 

“Because if he did, there are things we can do. We have options.” 

“ _You_ have options,” she mumbles, meeting his gaze. “I don’t.” 

Steve steps a little closer to her, eyes intense. “Listen. My parents are hardly ever in town. You could stay in the guest room anytime. No questions asked.”

Max holds her breath, looking up at him. “No questions asked?” 

Steve nods slightly. 

“Promise?” 

“Cross my heart.” 

She nods, tensing as she sees Billy’s camaro roll up. “I have to go now.” 

“Max? Be safe. If you need something --” 

“I know.” She tries to smile but doesn’t quite pull it off this time, clutching onto the straps of her backpack as she makes her way to the passenger side of Billy’s car.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. If you haven't already buckled in, this is the chapter you'll want to really do so for. There's an attempted sexual assault in this one, so if that's something that triggers you, please proceed with the utmost caution. This is the worst it gets in this story.
> 
> ***

The week passes slowly, but without incident, the way it always does after an altercation. But Max feels every moment like it’s a ticking time bomb, rushing toward the next nuclear meltdown, and with every day that passes, she feels more and more tense.

She explains to the others why she can’t utilize the radio, leaving all mentions of her stepdad out of the equation. They all know about Billy’s hair trigger mood swings and none of them question her reasoning. 

At home she goes back to locking herself in her room except at dinner, where she eats in silence, only speaking when someone speaks to her, and she answers with zero emotion in her voice. She feels herself shutting down the way she had when things had gotten so bad in California. She’s not allowed back on her skateboard because of her head injury, and because the doctor had warned about video games being linked to seizures, she’s not allowed to escape to there again yet, either. 

She’s trapped and every moment she spends in the house she feels more and more like she’s suffocating. 

Friday night she comes from school to find the lock gone from her door. She dumps her bag on her bed and goes to find her mom in the kitchen, fixing soup and sandwiches. Neil’s at the table reading the evening paper. 

“What happened to my door?” Her voice is even, but already she can feel anger and if she dares to admit it - panic - building inside her. 

“I removed the lock.” Neil doesn’t look up at her. 

“Why?” 

“It’s a fire hazard,” her mother says hastily, stirring the soup. 

“No, it isn’t,” she argues, clenching her hands into fists. 

“If we had a fire and you didn’t wake up, we wouldn’t be able to get to you,” Susan tells hers. 

Max almost retorts that she doubts any of them would even bother trying. “I’m a light sleeper.” 

“It isn’t worth the risk,” her mom answers. 

Max glares at her. “I want it back on my door.” 

“No.” Neil’s voice is calm and even. 

She turns to face him. “I’m sure this was your idea.” She knows she’s walking a high beam above a pit of fire -- she _knows_ , but she can’t stop herself.

“This is my house. Your mother and I made this decision together for safety reasons.” 

“I’m sure you did,” she says sarcastically. She stomps out of the room, down the hall and to her bedroom, slamming the door so hard the walls shake. She waits for the sound of footsteps to approach, but there’s only silence. 

***

Max contemplates pushing her dresser in front of her bedroom door that night. Ultimately she decides against it simply for the fact that if Neil goes after her mom in the middle of the night, it’ll seriously delay her ability to stop him. 

Instead, she lies awake most of the night, tense and listening for trouble, but not hearing anything other than the muffled sound of Billy’s music across the hall. She finally drifts off around 3, facing the door, and wishing she had Steve’s nail bat. 

She dreams of that night in the junkyard, of coming face to face with a demogorgon, waking up from the sound of her own terrified screaming. She’s drenched in sweat, heart thundering in her chest, and a hand covering her mouth. 

Max flails instinctively, reaching up to try and tug the hand away.

“Stop,” Neil orders, low and warning. 

Dread sweeps over her, but she grows still and after a moment, he removes his hand, his face inches from her own, highlighted only by the faint moonlight filtering in through her bedroom window. 

“I don’t know how many times we’ve talked about your attitude, Max, but obviously talking isn’t doing a damn bit of good.” His breath stinks and her stomach turns at the smell of the alcohol. “Maybe it’s all those damn boys you’re spending time with. They the problem?” 

“No,” she says immediately, trying to sit up. 

Neil shoves her back down, hand settling heavily on her collarbone. “You know, I think you’re finally old enough to start earning your keep around here, Maxine.” 

Her eyebrows knit together. “You want me to get a job?” 

He doesn’t answer, but his hand slowly slides down her body, and he squeezes one of her breasts and she suddenly understands. 

Max lashes out, catching his cheek with her fist and rolling off the bed. She scrambles for the door, but he’s suddenly behind her, shoving her up against the wall. “Get off me!” 

“I don’t see what the problem is. You’re fucking a bunch of boys already.” His mouth presses up against her ear, nipping at it with his teeth and making her blanch. 

She cries out as he yanks her away from the wall, wrapping his arms around her and half dragging, half carrying her to the bed. He forces her down onto the bed, facedown. 

“Come on, Maxine. Might as well see what it’s like to be with a _real_ man.” One of his hands is suddenly between her legs, and she screams, trying to kick him. His other hand tightens around the back of her neck, squeezing, and she chokes, gasping for breath. 

“This is going to happen. You owe me for what you did to me in California,” Neil says harshly. The hand between her legs yanks at the pajama shorts and underwear she’s wearing. “Stop fighting the inevitable, you stupid cunt.” 

“Get off her!” 

The moment the pressure on her neck is gone, she scrambles off the bed, tears pouring down her cheeks as she coughs. She hears a loud thump from behind her, and she turns around in time to see Neil punch Billy in the stomach, making him double over in pain. 

Something inside of her snaps. She grabs the lamp off her nightstand, yanking the cord from the wall and gripping onto it tightly. She slams it down over Neil’s head, glass shattering all over the floor and making her stepfather stumble backwards. 

He turns to face her, backhanding her hard enough that she falls back against her dresser. Then he closes the distance between them, grabbing her by the throat with both hands. She claws at his face with her short nails, drawing blood but he doesn’t let her go.

And then Billy swings something at him and Neil crumples to the floor, Max falling beside him and pressing her hands to her throat as she coughs. 

“Get up, Max. We gotta go.” There’s urgency in Billy’s voice she’s never heard before, and she looks up at him, not understanding. “Go outside and get in the car. Wait for me.” He yanks his keys out of his jacket pocket and she catches them in one shaking hand. 

“Billy?” 

Neil starts to move again, groaning. 

“Max, go get in the goddamned car!” he yells, startling her into action. 

She does as she’s told, not saying a word to her mom, who’s standing silently in the hall, face ghost-pale. 

***

She can’t stop shaking. 

Huddled in the passenger seat of Billy’s camaro, she grips the car keys tight in her hand and tries to steady her breathing. But she can’t stop shaking. 

It doesn’t even dawn on her that part of the issue is the cold night air and the fact that she’s in pajamas.

She waits for Billy, hastily brushing the tears off her face when she sees him approaching. He slides into the driver’s seat and holds out his hand. 

Wordlessly she deposits the keys into his palm and he jams them into the ignition, backing out of the driveway so fast the tires squeal. They speed off down the road. “You’re okay.” His voice is firm. There’s blood dripping from his nose, and Max doesn’t answer him, simply stares. 

“You’re _okay_ , Max.” His voice rises just a little. 

“Yeah,” she mutters, reluctantly staring out the windshield and wondering where they’re going. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, as though reading her mind. 

Still, the question catches her off guard since he’s the one driving. “What?” 

“You can’t go back to the house. Where do you want me to take you?” he asks gruffly, and she sees the way his hands tighten around the steering wheel, and all of this feels surreal, like she’s watching someone else’s life unfold in front of her. 

“You can’t either,” she says, because she doesn’t know how to answer his question. 

This time he doesn’t respond. 

“Billy, if you go back there, he’ll kill you,” she exclaims. 

“Not if I kill him first,” he mutters. 

“Yeah, great plan. Then you go to prison for life.” 

“And everyone will be safe from both of us, won’t they?” he snaps, making her flinch. “I’m a piece of shit just like him, remember?” 

A tear trickles down her cheek and she doesn’t bother to brush it away this time. “You don’t have to be like him,” she whispers. “You’re not that far gone.” Yet.

He glances at her, jaw tensing and then faces forward once more. 

“Get out, Billy.” She links her fingers together in her lap, staring down at her hands. “You’re almost eighteen. You can go. You can get help, and this doesn’t have to be your life anymore.” 

Billy snorts but doesn’t reply. 

“You can go back to California and never have to see him again,” she whispers. “Get out of this shithole.” 

One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Tempting as hell.” 

Max is silent for a moment, listening to the rumble of his car engine. “I’m not going back. If they try to make me, I’ll go to Chief Hopper and tell him everything.” 

“That’s your plan?” For once his voice is quiet and not mocking. 

“Yes.” She chews her lower lip and winces. Split lip. Son of a bitch. She hadn’t even realized. 

“Where are you gonna go?” 

Truthfully she has no idea. At least not long-term. She thinks about Will’s offer last weekend, and she doubts Joyce Byers would turn her away. But she knows they already struggle for money as it is and the Byers’ have dealt with enough of their own trauma to last a lifetime. It wouldn’t be fair to add hers on top of it. 

“No questions asked,” she mumbles under her breath. 

“What?” 

Max holds her breath before exhaling in a rush. “Take me to Steve’s.” 

Billy quickly turns his head to stare at her. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes, I’m fucking serious,” she retorts and he scoffs, muttering something indistinguishable beneath his breath. She doesn’t ask him to repeat it. 

Moments later, his car rolls up into the Harrington’s driveway. The house is dark, no sign of life, and Max doesn’t reach for the door handle. 

“You sure you don’t want me to take you to the Sinclair’s?” 

“Yeah.” She’s pretty sure they wouldn’t agree to a “no questions asked” policy as readily as Steve. 

“What if he’s not home?” he asks doubtfully, disdain in his voice. 

“He’s a good guy.” She turns her head to look at him. “And he _is_ home.” She motions to the other car in the driveway. 

“Fine.” 

Max reaches for the door handle. “Thank you. For stopping him.” Her voice is barely audible. She pushes the car door open. 

“Max.” 

She looks back at him uncertainly. 

“Take care of yourself,” he says shortly. She recognizes it for what it is. _Goodbye. I’m sorry._

“You too, Billy,” she whispers, closing the car door and wrapping her arms around herself as she watches him drive away and out of her life. After years of torment at his hands, she’s not sure why she’s crying. 

***

The sound of the doorbell ringing at 4 AM? Never brings good news, Steve is sure. How could anything at that time of the morning be good news? He makes his way down the steps, turning on every light he comes across on the way, and clutching onto his nail bat just in case -- because _just in case_ has become his life. 

Cautiously he approaches the front door, pausing when he flips the porch light on and looks out the glass to see a head full of familiar red hair. 

Oh shit. 

He undoes all three locks in quick succession and throws the door open, finding himself face to face with a pale-faced Max Mayfield standing on his porch, shaking from head to toe. Her lip is busted open, and there’s a bruise blooming across her right cheek. She’s in goddamn _shorts_ in twenty degree weather, and there are no shoes on her feet. 

“Fuck. Come in.” He ushers her inside, locking the door once more and setting his bat down. “What the hell happened?” 

“No questions asked,” she whispers, and he sees how red-rimmed her eyes are from crying. 

Shit. Why had he ever agreed to that? He has so many questions right now. But he _did_ say that. And here she is, turning to him for help he’s already doubting he knows how to give her. His face must reveal what’s on his mind because she waves a hand in front of him. 

“I really need you to be calm right now.” He’s not used to the pleading he hears in her voice.

Calm, he thinks. I can be calm. 

“I’m calm,” he tells her. “But there is one thing I have to ask. Do you have any sort of head injury?” 

“No,” she answers immediately. 

He exhales, taking stock of the injuries he can see (and trying not to think about how many she might have that he _can’t_ see) - and now that she’s standing under the light, he can clearly see the fingermarks and bruising that’s starting to become visible on her neck. 

Jesus Christ. 

“Okay. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and in warmer clothes.” That’s what a responsible adult would do, right? He hopes so. He glances at her feet, realizing now that she must be bleeding because there are tracks on the wood floor that lead from the door to the spot where she’s currently standing. 

“I’ll clean it up,” she tells him when she catches him staring. 

“Uh, hell no, you will _not_ ,” he retorts. “We’re getting you taken care of, and then your ass is going to bed.” He points at her. 

Max gives him a bemused look but she doesn’t argue for once. He suspects that beneath the eerily calm mask she’s wearing, there’s a much less calm reaction she’s struggling to hold off. 

He hopes he’s prepared to handle it when it happens. 

***

“You really don’t need to do this,” Max tells Steve, brows furrowed as she watches him root around in the medicine cabinet. 

“Stop. I’m doing this,” he tells her in his signature exasperated _oh my god, don’t argue with me, shithead_ tone. He pulls a whole bunch of bottles and supplies out of the cabinet, organizing it on one side of the sink and then gesturing to the other side. “Okay. Sit.” 

She sighs and sits on the sink counter, skeptical that he even really knows what to do. 

“Okay.” He looks over the stuff he’s collected and she waits for a few seconds before pointing to the bottle of peroxide. 

“Really, I can do this myself,” she says. 

“Max? I’ve got this.” He picks up the bottle of peroxide and grabs a handful of cotton balls from the bag. He pours some of the peroxide onto one of the cotton balls and hesitantly lets his hand hover near her face, like he’s afraid to touch her. Like he’s afraid she might break.

“Just do it.” She turns her head to the side and doesn’t so much as flinch as he dabs the ball across her cheek with a gentleness that she wouldn’t have guessed any teenage boy was capable of possessing. 

When he’s done with her face, Steve kneels on the floor to examine her feet, swearing under his breath. “Tell me you didn’t walk here.” 

“Billy drove me.” 

She feels his eyes on her and she meets his gaze, knowing he at least deserves _some_ answers in all of this. “His dad’s a prick.” The stunned look on his face tells her that the others hadn’t filled Steve in on that piece of information. 

“Did you walk on glass?” he asks after a moment, staring at her left foot. 

“I broke a lamp,” she admits.

“Jesus, Max,” he mumbles, reaching for the tweezers he’d set out. “I still see some.” 

“Okay.” She closes her eyes tight as he plucks a couple of shards from her skin and throws them in the garbage, carefully dabbing at the spots with the cotton ball. She hisses involuntarily at the sharp sting, and Steve winces in sympathy, muttering an apology. 

“Almost done,” he tells her, placing a couple of bandages on her foot after he finishes cleaning them. “You know. I’m pretty sure any of the other shitheads would have cried all the way through that.” He pauses as he rises to his feet. “Actually, I probably would have, too.” 

Max rolls her eyes and starts to slide off the sink, but he stops her with a hand on her arm. 

“Let me see your neck.” His voice drops. 

She swallows heavily and tilts her head back so he can get a better look. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks, concerned. “Are you breathing okay?” 

“I’m okay,” she tells him. 

“Did you black out?” His finger ghosts across one of the bruises. 

“No.” 

That answer seems to help him relax, even if only a little. “Okay. Let’s get you some warmer clothes. Anything of mine’s gonna be way too big on you, but my mom’s stuff should work okay.” 

“Okay.” She slides off the counter carefully, catching her reflection in the mirror. “I look like shit.” 

Steve meets her eyes in the mirror. “You look like you took down a demodog and lived to tell the tale.” 

That makes her smile.

He smiles back at her and leads the way down the hall to his parents’ room, flipping the light on. He yanks open a dresser drawer, locating a pair of pajamas and holding them out to her. 

“Thanks,” she tells him, heading back down the hall to the bathroom to change. The cotton shirt and pants feel soft against her skin and she’d just about bet they had cost more than her entire closet of clothes. They’re a little big on her, but not too much so. They’ll work for the night. 

She emerges from the bathroom to find him waiting for her outside of it. “You won’t get in trouble for me being here, will you?” 

“My parents are out of the country on a business trip. London, I think. Although, that may have been last week. I don’t really keep track anymore. They won’t be back for at least another week, if not two. And then it won’t be long before they’re off again.” 

Max can’t tell from his blitheness whether he’s glad about that or not. 

Steve shrugs. “Anyway, next stop. Guest room.” He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and leads her down to the end of the hall. “Here we go.” He turns the light on, illuminating the large mostly empty room, but her eyes go straight to the queen-sized bed loaded with a mountain of pillows. 

“Holy shit.” Her eyes are wide when she looks at him. “That’s a shit ton of pillows.” 

“It’s the Harrington way.” He motions toward it before he strides across the room, pulling the blankets back for her. “All yours.” 

Max moves hesitantly, sitting down on the edge of it and she sinks immediately, eyes widening comically. 

“It’s a waterbed,” he explains. “It’s pretty comfortable.” 

No shit, she thinks as she swings her legs up into it. Almost immediately exhaustion starts to bear down on her. 

Steve watches her for a moment before retreating toward the door. “I’m across the hall if you need anything.” 

“Steve?” She manages to sit up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think - would you mind staying? Just until I fall asleep.” She’s ashamed and embarrassed by how pathetic she sounds and she rolls her eyes at herself. “Nevermind. That’s stupid.” 

“It’s not,” he says quietly, crossing the room and sitting down on the bed beside her as she lies back down once more. She clutches onto one of the pillows, tensing and then relaxing when he gently musses her hair. “Close your eyes,” he says, leaning back against the wooden headboard.

Max yawns. “What, are you gonna tell me a bedtime story?” she quips.

“Yes, Shithead, as a matter of fact, I am. Now close your eyes.” This time, she does as he says. “Once upon a time there was this little town in Indiana called Hawkins…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That was a rough chapter to write for obvious reasons. Still three chapters to go, but it's all downhill from here. The rest is mostly Max dealing with the fallout of what's happened, and her friends trying to help her. 
> 
> I hope you're all okay after that one. The continued commenting as I post this fic have been SO helpful and encouraging to me, because I really hadn't written a long fic without a co-writer in years. As the story winds down, I do want you to know I've got a handful of ideas for one shots to follow up with, so if there's anything in particular you'd like to see, feel free to let me know. I can't make any promises but if a suggestion triggers the muse, it'll happen! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter a few hours early because I won't be around my computer til late tomorrow. <3

She sleeps like the dead. 

When she finally starts waking up, it’s to the feeling of warmth all around her. 

“Hey. Max.” 

Someone is shaking her gently and it takes her a moment to ease out of the comfort unconsciousness brought. When she opens her eyes, it’s Steve’s worried face she sees and her eyebrows furrow. Why is Steve in her house? She blinks a couple of times, reaching up to rub her eyes and wincing at the spark of pain in her cheek.

“You with me?” 

Right. Not her house. Not her bed, not her mountain of the softest pillows in the _universe_. She struggles for a moment, but manages to sit up, propping herself up with one hand. “What’s wrong?” Her voice is hoarse, and this time it’s Steve who winces. 

“You’ve been asleep ten hours. I thought I should wake you and get you fed.” 

“I don’t feel like going out,” she says immediately, hands curling around the edge of the comforter covering her legs. 

“You don’t have to. I cooked.” 

Max stares at him. “You cooked?” 

“Eggs and bacon,” he tells her and sure enough, he can smell the food now that he’s mentioned it. “Come on.” He ruffles her hair and she makes a face at him that causes him to grin as he heads toward the door. 

Max maneuvers her way out of the waterbed even though she’d much rather crawl back into it, and follows him downstairs into the kitchen. Her eyes widen at the sight of the two heaping platefuls of food waiting for them. 

He carries the plates to the dining room table and sets them down alongside glasses and silverware he’d already set out. “Milk or orange juice?” 

“Orange juice.” 

“Good choice.” He pulls the carton from the fridge and pours each of them a glass, motioning for her to sit down. 

She sits and practically dives into the food, shoveling it into her mouth. She doesn’t even realize how hungry she’d been until the plate is empty. 

“Want more?” 

Max shakes her head and downs most of her orange juice. 

“How are you feeling?” 

She shrugs, diverting her eyes to the portrait on the wall. “Is that your mom and dad?” 

Steve glances to see what she’s looking at, then nods. “Yeah. They hired some full-of-himself painter.” He rolls his eyes. “Paid way too much money if you ask me.” 

“They look happy.” 

“People always do in portraits.” He gazes at her. “How’s your throat?” 

Max shifts in the chair. “A little sore.” Like the rest of her. There was just a dull ache throughout her entire body. 

“I’ll get you some Tylenol,” he tells her, rising to his feet. 

She doesn’t protest the offer when he brings them, swallowing the pills down with the rest of her drink. “So...what now?” She rests her hands together in her lap. 

“Well, I’m gonna clean up the kitchen. You can watch TV if you want,” he offers. 

She pauses. “That’s not really what I meant.” 

Steve studies her for a moment. “Well, you can’t go home.” There’s resolve in his voice, like he thinks she’s going to argue with him about it. 

Max shivers and looks down. “I know. I guess...I should maybe call my dad?” Not that he can really do anything from two thousand miles and a custody agreement away. 

“Or Hopper.” Steve’s voice is quiet.

She twists her fingers together. “The police can’t really do much. Not in these kinds of situations.” 

He sits back down, watching her. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“One night in jail,” she mutters. “My mom wouldn’t press charges but Neil did wind up losing his job.” 

Steve makes a noise of disgust. “One night? Jesus.” 

“He took it out on Billy, even though I’m the one who called 911,” she admits, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“You know that’s not your fault, right?” Steve’s gaze is intense. “He’s a piece of shit.” 

She doesn’t answer. She _knows_ rationally it wasn’t her fault. But somehow it still feels like it was. 

He exhales. “Can I ask you something? I know I’m breaking the ‘No questions asked’ agreement, but - “ 

“Go ahead,” she interrupts. 

“The concussion. That really wasn’t Billy, was it? It was your stepdad.” 

“Yeah.” She glances at him. “I broke up a fight between him and my mom. He wasn’t very happy about it.” 

“Jesus, Max,” he mutters. “Are you sure we don’t need to get you checked out at the hospital?” 

“No more hospitals,” Max says firmly. 

Steve sighs, clearly not too happy with her response, but he doesn’t push the issue and she’s grateful. “Well, look. You don’t have to make any decisions today. Or even tomorrow. You can just stay here. This house is too damn big for just me anyway.” He sounds so nonchalant about the fact that he’s just invited her to stay there. 

“I won’t cause any trouble,” she promises. 

He scoffs. “But this weekend is for _resting_ and not doing anything remotely dangerous or stressful. I’m talking laying on your ass on the sofa in front of the TV pigging out on junk food. Capiche?” 

She smiles in response.

***

Saturday passes quickly. She and Steve watch TV and chat about their mutual dislike of hospitals, their shared love of the same pizza toppings (green peppers and pepperoni), and similar music tastes. She discovers Steve is great at math but not so much with writing essays, at which point they come up with a mutual agreement to help each other out on homework and studying. 

She naps off and on, and every time she wakes up, she finds another blanket piled on top of her. Amusement tugs at her mouth when she finds he’s dozed off each time, too. 

True to his word, he doesn’t let her do anything but lie around. He brings her all kinds of junk food -- popcorn, M&M’s, Reese’s peanut butter cups, licorice. 

It’s the safest, and the most cared for she’s felt in a long time. 

They’re in the middle of watching and laughing over Super Bloopers and Practical Jokes Sunday evening when the doorbell rings: not just once, but three times in rapid succession. Her entire body tenses and Steve squeezes her arm. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, rising to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” 

She exhales, trying to relax again, wrapping the blanket around herself and lying down while he goes to answer the door. 

***

Steve isn’t sure what or who to expect to find ringing his doorbell, but considering the injured kid in his living room, he’s not taking any chances. His bat is resting two feet away from the door. He doesn’t get it open before whoever it is rings the bell again, but he’s relieved to find it’s just Dustin. 

An _upset_ Dustin, but still better than Billy or Neil Hargrove by far. 

“What the hell is the purpose of having a radio if you aren’t going to bother answering when we have a _Code Red_?” the boy demands, stalking into his house and pushing is way past Steve. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for nearly two hours. What the hell, Steve?” 

His brow furrows as he registers what Dustin’s said. He quickly closes the door. “Code Red? What’s wrong? Also, I do still have a phone,” he reminds him.

Dustin glares at him, holding up a hand and speaking into his headset. “I found Steve. He was just _ignoring_ us,” he complains. “Over.” 

“Okay, I wasn’t ignoring anyone,” Steve responds, folding his arms across his chest. “My radio’s upstairs and I wasn’t.” 

“You’re supposed to keep it with you at all times,” he argues. “Anyway, the Code Red is: Max is _missing_. And so is her douchebag brother, and his car, which means she’s probably in trouble. Hopper has an APB out for them, but they’ve been missing since last night,” Dustin rambles, clearly agitated as he moves farther into the house. 

“Dustin --” 

“So I need you and your car to pick up Lucas and help us look for her, because everyone is freaking --” His voice trails off as he stands in the doorway of the living room, eyes locking on the redhead on Steve’s couch. “ -- out.” His mouth is agape. 

Steve sighs. 

Max sits up slowly, hair falling over her cheek and temporarily at least, covering the bruising there. 

“What.” Dustin’s gaze darts between Max and Steve, trying to figure out what’s going on. 

“I didn’t know anyone was looking for me,” Max says, and Steve can hear the wariness in her tone. “Who called Hopper?” 

“Your mom, obviously.” 

She presses her lips together. “Steve, can I use your phone?” 

“Yeah, of course.” She heads toward the kitchen. 

“She’s been here the whole time?” Dustin looks offended, relieved and confused all at once. It’s kind of impressive, actually. 

“It’s a long story.” 

“Clearly,” he grumbles, shaking his head before talking into his headset. “Call off the search party. She’s here at Steve’s. Over.” 

Steve’s not sure what the response is, but whatever it is makes Dustin rip off his headset with a grimace. “That’s literally all I know right now!” he yells. 

Steve rubs a hand over his forehead. “Okay, first? You’ve gotta calm down. She’s been through enough.” 

The younger boy’s eyes flick up to him, expression instantly shifting from anger to worry. “Is she okay?” 

He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again, gesturing toward the sofa. “Sit.” 

He knows the kid’s worried when he actually obeys without argument. “Steve?” 

“I don’t know all the details, okay?” And frankly, it’s not his place to share them. “She’s been here since early yesterday morning. She’ll have to be the one to tell you more than that.” 

“Steve. Is she _okay?_ ” he presses. 

He doesn’t really know how to answer that, so he’s glad when he doesn’t have to. 

“I’m okay,” Max says from the archway between the living room and the kitchen. 

“Did you call your mom?” Steve asks uncertainly. 

“No. I called Hopper. Or...I tried. I left a message with the desk.” She wraps her arms around herself, and somehow the gesture makes her seem even younger and more vulnerable. 

Dustin rises to his feet and moves toward her. “She said you and Billy took off and never came back. We all thought…” His voice trails off, but it’s clear they all thought the worst. 

“So there hasn’t been any word from him?” She steps forward. “He didn’t go back?” 

“No one’s seen him,” Dustin confirms. 

She presses her lips together tightly and nods, and for one second, Steve’s sure she’s about to cry. Instead, she whispers one word. 

“Good.” 

***

“Okay, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” There’s no mistaking the frustration in Dustin’s voice. 

Max glances at Steve and then back at her friend, sighing before reluctantly tucking her hair behind her ear and revealing her bruised face. 

“Son of a bitch,” he whispers, eyes going wide as he moves closer to get a better look. “Did Billy --” 

“Neil,” she cuts him off, squirming a little under his scrutiny. 

“Son of a bitch,” he swears again, and much to her shock, Dustin’s eyes fill with tears that he swipes away quickly. “That piece of _shit._ Steve, give me your bat. I’m going to kill him!” 

“Whoa. Hell no. You are not going over there,” Steve informs him. 

“That bastard deserves to _die!_ ” 

“Dustin, I’m okay,” she tells him, reaching out and resting her hands on his shoulders. The look he gives her breaks her heart and she hesitantly wraps her arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t hesitate to hug her back, mumbling words she can‘t entirely make out. She catches a couple of “I’m so sorries” though. Her face feels hot, eyes growing blurry even as she does her best to blink back tears. 

“You didn’t do anything that requires an apology,” she tells him. 

“We _knew_. We knew what was happening, but you still went back to that house and --” 

“Stop,” Max orders, pulling away to look at him. “I didn’t tell anyone he’d moved back in.” 

Dustin sniffs, swiping at his eyes again. “You can move in with me and my mom. You’ll be safe there.” 

Before she has a chance to respond, the doorbell rings and she tries to ignore the anxiety that creeps up her spine. 

He looks at her guiltily. “The others,” he admits. 

“ _All_ of them?” 

He looks sheepish. “We were worried. And when a party member requires assistance…” 

“I gotta go get that before one of those shitheads tries breaking a window to get in,” Steve interrupts, looking at Max when the bell rings again. “Are you good?” 

She knows what he really means. _Want me to tell them to go away?_ Not only does she not want to put Steve in that position, she also doesn’t want to cause anymore problems in the party than she already has. “Go ahead.” 

He nods slightly, then heads toward the door. 

Max draws in a breath and moves to sit down on the couch, heart beating hard in her chest. She rests her hands on her knees while Dustin moves to sit down beside her, watching her with obvious concern. 

“I’m okay. It’s just embarrassing,” she says, letting her hair fall into her face. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says simply. 

“Where is she?” 

She holds her breath and looks over her shoulder to see Lucas heading in her direction, followed closely by Mike, Will, Eleven, and Jonathan. She stands up again just in time for Lucas to hug her tightly. She closes her eyes.

“What happened?” Mike asks immediately. “Hopper said your mom called and asked him to put out an APB for you and Billy. You’ve been here the whole time?” 

Eleven reaches out and puts a hand on Mike’s arm and he glances at her, falling silent when he sees her solemn expression. 

“First of all, I’m okay. I’m fine,” she stresses, not looking up to meet Lucas’ gaze. “Secondly, yes. I’ve been here since early Saturday morning.” 

“What happened?” Lucas asks anxiously. 

She doesn’t want to think about what happened. What _almost_ happened. What definitely would have happened if Billy hadn’t come to her defense. “Neil was drunk. Billy and I took off. I had him drop me here.” 

“Wait, but you said your mom kicked Neil out.” Mike looks confused. 

“Yeah, well. He bought her roses and she let him come back.” There’s only a faint hint of the bitterness that she feels tinging her voice. She doesn’t want to think about that right now, either. 

“What happened?” Will’s voice is barely audible. “When your stepdad got drunk?” 

An image of Neil’s face hovering over hers on her bed flashes through her mind. 

“Okay, let’s...all give Max a minute to breathe, all right?” Steve moves so he’s standing beside her. “Everybody take a seat.” He shakes his head and looks at Jonathan as if to ask ‘Do you see what I have to deal with here?’

Jonathan just gives him a bemused look in return, leaning against the wall. 

Mike and Eleven move simultaneously to sit on the loveseat while Lucas sits down beside Dustin, and Will perches on the arm of the sofa, expression troubled as ever, like he knows whatever happened was bad. 

Max isn’t used to being the center of attention and she’s starting to feel like a bug under a microscope. “I need some water,” she announces before making a beeline for the kitchen. 

Instantly Lucas rises to his feet, and so does Dustin. 

“I think she’s feeling a little overwhelmed, guys,” Steve tells them. “Maybe just one of you should go.” 

The two boys look at each other, Dustin’s gaze dropping. “Should be you, I guess.”

Lucas squeezes his shoulder before heading into the kitchen, pausing momentarily when he sees her leaning against the sink, hair cascading like a curtain around her face. Her shoulders are shaking. 

“Max?” His voice is barely audible. 

It takes her a moment to gather her nerve, and then she turns to face him, hair tucked behind her ear. 

His stomach turns at the sight of the bruises on her face, at the still unshed tears shining in her blue eyes. At the marks on her _neck._ Marks in the shape of hand prints.

“Max --” 

“I think you should find someone else.” 

“What?” He frowns, confused. 

“Another girl,” she clarifies. 

Well, he didn’t see that coming. All the air rushes out of his lungs. “What are you talking about?” 

“Lucas, I don’t think I can do this,” she tells him, fingers twisting the hem of the too-large shirt she’s wearing.

“Do what?” he asks gently, taking a couple steps toward her. Her eyes dart away from his and she won’t look at him again.  
“Any of it. Us. The party.” Her voice shakes, but it’s the shallow eay she’s breathing that worries him more than what she’s saying. 

“Max, look at me, okay? Take a deep breath.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, but she does take a deep breath. 

“Tell me what happened,” he whispers. 

“I can’t,” she whispers, raking a hand through her hair and turning away from him. 

Lucas feels his blood run cold. There’s more to it than the bruises on her face and neck, and the split lip, and it’s bad enough that she can’t even _talk_ about it. He feels sick to his stomach even as he utters the question bouncing around in his mind. 

“Max...did he rape you?” 

Tears spill down her pale cheeks. “No.” She swipes them away quickly but more follow. “No, but he tried. Billy stopped him.” 

Tears prick his own eyes. 

“And you know what my mom did?” Her voice cracks. “She stood in the hallway and did _nothing._ Nothing!” A sob escapes her. “Just like she always does nothing!” 

Lucas moves forward, wrapping his arms around her. 

“She doesn’t give a shit about me,” she whispers against his neck. “She never has.” One of his hands tangle gently in her hair and his other arm tightens around her just a little. Hot tears roll down her cheeks and she buries her face against his shoulder, body trembling in his arms. 

He wants to tell her that it’ll all be okay, but he can’t, because it won’t. He’s not sure anything can rectify the betrayal from her mom. And she wouldn’t believe him even if he tried. 

“I’ve gotta get a hold of Hopper,” she mumbles. “Get him to call off the APB on Billy.” She sniffs, pulling away from him and wiping the tears off her face. “And then I have to figure out what the hell I’m gonna do.” 

Lucas is quiet. “Are you gonna tell him about your stepdad?” 

Max wraps her arms around herself. “I don’t know. Not telling him may be the only leverage I have against my mom making me come back.” A bitter smile touches her mouth. “She won’t want the love of her life in jail.” 

He winces, looking down. “I’m sorry, Max. You deserve better.” 

She tries to smile but doesn’t quite manage it. “Gotta roll with the punches, right?” She draws in a slow breath, moving over toward the phone. “Sorry for crying all over you.” 

His eyes are sad as he watches her pick up her broken pieces and do her best to pretend her entire life hasn’t been brutally smashed by the two people she should’ve been able to trust above everyone else.


	14. Chapter 14

If there’s one kind of person that Jim Hopper despises, it’s the kind of person who would hurt a kid. He may never be able to get his hands on the likes of Dr. Brenner, but he knows where’s a damn good chance at some point that he’ll get his hands on Neil Hargrove. 

And gazing at the petite, bruised up redhead sitting across from him at Steve Harrington’s kitchen table, he really wants nothing more than to go beat the shit out of her worthless excuse for a step-father. 

He’s pretty sure by the look on Harrington’s face that he’s itching to do the same. Not for the first time, Hopper wonders exactly how Steve came to be the caretaker of this ragtag group of kids. But now isn’t the time to inquire. 

No, for now he has to focus entirely on the reason he’s here, and she’s not making it easy on him. “I can have him locked up within the hour.” 

“No,” she says again, arms folded across her chest.

He grits his teeth. “He belongs behind bars, Max.” 

“He won’t stay there _anyway_.” Her voice is resolute and Hopper pauses at that, gaze shifting momentarily to Steve, who’s leaning against the wall closest to Max, hovering like some kind of protective bodyguard. 

“Her mom would have him bailed out by morning,” he tells Hopper. 

He curses under his breath, leaning back in the chair. “You sure?” 

Max rolls her eyes skyward. “As sure as I am that the earth rotates around the sun, yes.” 

He can’t help but wonder how many times that exact thing has happened. “You realize unless you give me a statement, my hands are tied here.” 

“I know,” she admits quietly. 

Hopper sighs and looks at Steve. “How long can she stay with you?” 

“I’ve got awhile before my parents come back, and they’re never here for long when they show up anyway.” He shrugs, and Hopper presses his lips together, wondering what the hell is wrong with so many of the parents in this damned town. 

“When that happens, you’ll come stay with me and El,” Hopper states. 

She looks surprised by that. 

“And if not with us, then the Byers’.” He gives her a don’t-even-argue-with-me look. She doesn’t. 

Instead, she changes the topic entirely. “What about Billy?” 

Hopper frowns. He’s fully aware of how much of a terror Billy Hargrove has been since they all moved to town, and he has it on good authority that a lot of that terror was aimed _at_ the girl sitting in front of him and he doesn’t really understand why she’s so worried about his well-being. “The car’s registered under his dad’s name, but unless he decides to press charges for theft, I have no reason to go after him. He’s close enough to eighteen the feds won’t bother with listing him as a runaway.” 

Max exhales, leaning back and letting her eyes close, clearly relieved. There’s more to this story than she’s saying, and he hates that he knows that and also knows that she won’t tell him any more of it unless she’s damn good and ready. 

“Chief? Can I make a suggestion?” Steve asks and he and Max both turn to look at him. 

“What is it?” 

Steve glances at Max momentarily. “We should take pictures of her injuries. In case Neil or her mom try to make her come back.” 

Hopper raises his eyebrows, bemused. “Are you suggesting photographic evidence be used for the purpose of blackmail, Harrington?” 

The corners of Max’s mouth turn upwards. 

Steve, on the other hands, shrugs. “Yeah. Pretty much.” 

Hopper studies the older teenager, a knowing glint in his eye. “Kid...what are you planning to do after graduation?” 

***

“Max?” There’s a knock on the door to the Harrington’s guest room and she exhales. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah. Come in.” She glances over when Steve opens the door, Jonathan Byers right behind him. She’s not sure why she suddenly feels so, so uneasy. “Where do you want me to stand?” She’s proud when her voice doesn’t waver. She’s changed into a v-neck shirt from Steve’s mom’s closet so that Jonathan can more easily photograph the bruising on her neck. 

Jonathan gives her a gentle, reassuring smile so reminiscent of Will that she can’t help but relax. “How about against the blue accent wall? The contrast will help the photo quality,” he explains. 

She nods wordlessly and moves in front of that wall, standing up straight and still. She lets him direct her into different poses to document the marks and injuries from different angles and when he tells her he’s done, she hesitates. “Wait,” she says when he starts to put the camera lens on. “There’s more.” 

Steve and Jonathan exchange a worried look and Max turns her back to them, closing her eyes. Before she can change her mind, she raises the shirt up to reveal the still-healing welts on her back. 

“Son of a bitch,” Steve mutters and she winces, but remains silent. She hears several camera clicks and she swallows heavily. 

“Okay, Max,” Jonathan says quietly. “Is there anything else?” 

Nothing visible, she thinks, shaking her head and tugging the shirt down once more. 

“I’ll get these developed tonight,” he tells her when she turns around. 

“Thanks.” 

“Of course.” He gives her another faint smile before heading out the door, leaving her alone with Steve, who’s visibly upset. 

Max chews her lower lip for a moment, ignoring the sting. “I can make dinner,” she offers. 

“How about we make it together?” Steve responds, meeting her eyes. 

Hope blooms in her chest. “Yeah?” 

“Come on, Kid.” 

She smiles a little and follows him out the door. 

***

An hour later they’re sitting across from each other eating spaghetti and garlic bread, which Steve thinks tastes amazing, considering he rarely bothers to cook for himself. He doesn’t normally see the point. Just seems like a waste. But he watches Max down the food eagerly and he’s just pleased that so far he’s managed to keep her safe and well-fed. Score two for the babysitter. 

“What are you thinking about school tomorrow?” he asks as casually as he can. 

“I think the bruises will definitely solidify my reputation as a badass when I tell everyone they should see the other guy,” she quips. 

Steve considers that. “Is that really what you want your reputation to be?” 

Max shrugs, chewing her food before answering, and he thinks _I’ve really got to get Dustin to do that, too_. “If it means assholes don’t pick on my friends? Definitely.” 

“You’re a good friend, Max,” he tells her, and he watches how she rolls her eyes dismissively, but he also notices that her cheeks flush at the compliment. 

They fall into a comfortable silence as they eat but he notices that about halfway through her food, she’s started pushing her mashed potatoes around her plate.

“What’s on your mind?” 

“I know this isn’t like....a long-term solution,” she tells him and he pauses. “I’ll call my dad this week. See if - he can send me a bus ticket or something.” 

He tries to ignore his own immediate gut reaction because this isn’t about him and okay, so maybe it had taken a group of 13 year olds to make him realize the world doesn’t really revolve around him. “Is that what you want to do? Go back to California with your dad?” 

She doesn’t answer immediately. “I miss my dad and I miss California.” 

“I’m sensing a but.” 

“He has a girlfriend,” she admits, shifting in her chair. 

Steve watches her carefully as she pushes a noodle across her plate, waiting for her to continue. 

“He didn’t try for joint custody. I mean, I’m sure it’s because he didn’t think the judge would take his side, and he couldn’t afford a long drawn out court battle.” 

He exhales. Shit. “You’re worried he might not want you there.” 

“And I’d miss everyone here,” she adds, tilting her head to the side. “Which is actually a pretty good reason to avoid making friends in the future.” 

“Hey. That’s bullshit, Max,” he chides. “You can’t go through life by yourself, okay? No man is an island.” 

“I could totally be an island,” she argues. 

“Nope. You’re definitely a mountain.” At her dubious look, he elaborates. “You know, because there are multiple mounts in a mountain range.” He waves his hand around. “Also, they’re tall and proud, which suits you perfectly.” 

“Oh my god. You are so ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes. 

Steve smirks. “Maybe. But I’m also right.” 

She huffs, falling silent. 

He finishes his food and leans back in the chair. “Max? I meant what I said before. About you staying here.” 

“Don’t you want your normal life back?” 

He snorts. “No offense, but once you’ve helped fight monsters and evil plants from another dimension and you’re forced by the government to sign an NDA, there’s really no going back to normal.” 

Her lips quirk upwards just a little. “You know what I mean.” 

He decides to go for brutal honesty. “The house gets too quiet when I’m here alone.” 

Max lifts her gaze to meet his. 

“I want you to stay. Unless you’d rather go somewhere else. As long as that somewhere else is _safe_ ,” he stresses. 

“I feel safe here,” she admits, voice dropping. 

Steve relaxes. “Then it’s settled. You can stay here and be safe and I don’t have to be here alone all the time. See? Win/win.” Her lips turn upwards a bit more. “We’ll figure the rest out as we go along. Deal?” He reaches his hand across the table toward her and she shakes it. 

“Deal.” 

***

Later that night, Max lies awake, staring up at the ceiling until she hears the radio crackle to life beside her. Steve had let her borrow it in case she felt like talking to any of the others. 

“Max? You there? Over.” Will. 

She rolls onto her side and picks up the radio. “I’m here. What’s up? Over.” 

“Just couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe you couldn’t either.” 

“Good call,” she tells him. She glances at the clock. It’s a little after one. “Nightmare?” 

“No - just. Thinking too much, I guess.” 

She’s familiar with that concept. Sometimes it feels like there’s no off switch for her brain even though there’s definitely one for her body. They rarely sync up. She relays this to him and he agrees immediately. 

“Yeah! Like one minute I’m thinking about outer space and the next I’m thinking about how bad I bombed that stupid algebra test on Friday.” 

She groans, pretty sure she’d failed as well. But she doesn’t care about it nearly as much as she knows she probably should. 

“Are you coming to school tomorrow?” he asks a few minutes later, sounding more hesitant. 

“Yeah. Steve’s driving me,” she tells him as she lets her eyes drift shut. 

“Cool. I’m glad you’ll be there. It’s weird now when you’re not.” 

“Yeah?” The tiniest of smiles touches her mouth. 

“Duh. You’re my friend.” 

She laughs softly. “Back at you, Byers.” 

Max can hear the smile in his voice when he responds again. “ Night, Max.” 

“Night, Will.” 

***

“Are you sure you feel up to this? I can take you back home. We can spend another day watching shit tv,” Steve tells her as they sit together in his car in the parking lot of Hawkins Middle. He watches as she stares out the window. She’d been silent throughout most of breakfast, withdrawn. He hadn’t tried to push her into talking. She’s nervous, even if she’d never admit it. But talking Dustin through a bout of pre-dance jitters and talking Max through anxiety over everything she’s going through are two very different things. 

“I’m sure.” She doesn’t move to get out of the car, though. 

He’s tempted to tell her that they can just sit in the car for the whole school day if she wants, but he also knows that’s not going to help anything. So instead, he just waits. 

Finally, she sits up straight and reaches for the door handle. “Okay. See you after school?” 

He hears the uncertainty in her voice, like she’s worried he might just leave her there. He reminds himself that it’s not about him. “See you after school,” he confirms with a nod, meeting her eyes and not letting his gaze linger on the marks on her face and neck. 

Max nods, too, and she scrambles out of the car empty-handed because of all her homework and books and _everything_ are back at her dick of a stepdad’s house. He watches her go and leans his head back against the seat, groaning. Shit. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he should have tried contacting her teachers. 

Glancing at the clock, Steve heaves a sigh. No time now. He’ll come back at lunch time. 

***

It may not have occurred to Steve to contact her teachers, but someone apparently had. Before she takes her seat in first period, Mr. Harris catches her attention and gestures her toward his desk. She goes, reluctant. 

His eyes are too busy examining the bruises on her face and neck to meet her gaze and she narrows her eyes, a second away from asking if he’d like to take her picture when he finally speaks. 

“I’ll give you a three day extension on the essay assignment that’s due today, Ms. Mayfield. You can check out another copy of the textbook at the library. Mrs. Hill will be expecting you.” His voice is quiet and she doesn’t really know what to say other than a quick, mumbled “Thanks” before she turns and heads to take her seat, shocked.

That, she thinks, is definitely unexpected. 

The same thing happens at the beginning of second period, except Mr. Clarke has the decency not to gawk at her like it’s the first time he’s seen bruises and a split lip before. Really, it puts him ahead of most of the student body. 

Some have just stared, while others have moved out of her way, somewhat dramatically like they’re afraid to be her next victim, because clearly she’d been in a fight and after what she’d done to Troy a couple weeks ago, and the fact that no one else is walking around wounded, she’d clearly come out on top. 

She’d overheard a couple of girls in the restroom talking about about how she’d heard that “Maxine Mayfield put some guy in a coma.” Which had been followed by a whispered, “I wonder if she’s even really a _girl._ She’s so weird.” 

Because girls can’t fight, apparently, she thinks bitterly. They were so fucking clueless. 

Max feels tense and on edge until the moment the guys enter the room. She’s a little caught off guard when instead of taking their normal seats at the front of the room, they gather around her, boxing her in and the other students out. Will is directly to her right, with Mike behind her and Lucas in front of her and Dustin in front of Will.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Will asks as he scoots his desk over beside hers so they can share his science book. 

“Yeah, I think I dozed off right after we talked,” she tells him with a small smile that he returns. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Lucas turns around in his chair to face her, a grin on his face. “I was thinking maybe we could hit the arcade after school.” 

“Yeah, sure.” She adds quarters to the list he’s been compiling in her mind all morning. 

“We could hit my place for dinner,” Mike offers, looking around at them and Max finds herself slouching down in her chair and meeting Dustin’s eyes momentarily, noticing how quiet he is. He gives her a smile though. She glances around at all four of the boys. Her boys. Friends. 

Her family. 

***

She puts her plan into action at the end of fourth period, telling Lucas after second hour she’s going to use lunch to study in the library. He offers to come with her, but she teases him, telling him she’d be too distracted. It makes him grin dopily and she feels bad for lying, but it’s necessary. 

She’s almost to the front exit, almost ready to do what she _has_ to do, when someone calls her name. She freezes in her tracks and then slowly turns to face Mike, who looks a little confused. 

“Where are you going?” 

She pauses, trying to come up with a good reason that he won’t question. But by the look on his face, she’s already hesitated too long, and his head is cocked, eyes narrowed and staring at her. 

Shit. 

Max meets his eyes. “I’m going to get some stuff from my house,” she admits. 

His eyes widen. “Are you _crazy?_ You’re going to your house? Alone?” 

“My stepdad and my mom both work. That’s why I’m going now, so I don’t have to deal with them.” 

“Yeah, but what if they’re not at work? What if one of them comes home for lunch or something?” he argues. 

“They won’t.” 

“You can’t possibly know that, Max!” He moves closer to her. “This is a terrible plan.” 

“Yeah, well. I’m still going.” She folds her arms across her chest and Mike stares at her in disbelief. 

“Fine. Then I’m coming with you.” 

She blinks, taking a step back from him and shaking her head before moving toward the door. “No, you’re not.” 

“Yes, I am. If you’re so convinced this is safe and no big deal, there’s no reason I shouldn’t come with you.” There’s a challenge in his tone and she tenses even as she shoves the door open and stalks outside with Mike right at her heels. 

“Besides. You’re not gonna be able to get much of your stuff if you’re the only one carrying it,” he points out. 

Max groans. “I have a backpack. I’ll cram as much as I can into it.” 

“Great. Then I can help carry the rest.” 

He’s following her down the sidewalk in front of the school. “This is ridiculous. It’s a two mile walk,” she tells him, shaking her head. 

“You’re doing it,” he retorts. 

“Mike, seriously. You don’t --” 

A car pulls up alongside them, and they both freeze momentarily as Steve leans out the driver’s side window. “What the hell are you two doing?” 

Before Max has a chance to say anything, Mike moves toward the car. “We’re going to get some of her stuff from her house while her mom and douchebag stepdad are at work. You wanna give us a ride?” 

“Are you shitting me?” Steve turns his head and glares at Max. “All right. Both of you, in the car. Now.” 

Max shoots a glare at Mike but moves around to the passenger side of the car, waiting until Mike’s climbed in the back before she slides into the seat beside Steve, not looking at him as she slumps down. 

“You were going to _walk_ all the way to your house, grab your stuff and then what? Carry it all back to the school?” She folds her arms across her chest, not answering as he mutters under his breath and shifts the car into gear. “You could’ve said something,” he says after a moment. “I told you I’d help you.” 

“She was _going_ to go by herself,” Mike informs him, sounding almost as frustrated as Steve. 

“Seriously?” Steve looks at her sideways and shakes his head.

“I don’t need a lecture from either of you,” she grumbles. 

“It’s not about lecturing,” Mike snaps and she flinches. “It’s about wanting to keep our friend _safe_.” 

Her breath catches and she stares out the passenger side window, swallowing hard and struggling not to cry. 

“He’s right,” Steve says after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“I know!” Her voice is sharper than she means for it to be. “Look, I wasn’t trying to freak anybody out, okay? This is all new territory for me.” 

“What is?” Mike asks. 

“This.” She waves her hand around the car, gesturing to Steve first, and then to Mike. “Having people who actually give a shit. Okay?” She lets out a shaky breath and stares down at her hands in her lap. 

“Well. Get over it,” Mike says, voice earnest but still firm at the same time. “Because we’re not going anywhere. Right, Steve?” 

“Right,” he answers, voice quiet. 

“And not just us. Will and El and Lucas and Dustin --” 

“Joyce and Hopper,” Steve cuts in. 

“We’re all here and we all give a shit. So get used to it, Mayfield. You wanted in the party. Now you’re stuck with us.” 

A tiny smile touches her mouth. 

***

Mike still thinks this is a bad idea, even as he stands on the porch of the Mayfield-Hargrove house. He’s never been there before, and after everything he’s learned about what’s gone on inside, he’s never really wanted to be. 

He watches as Max pulls her house key from her jeans pocket and tries to insert it into the lock, but her hand is shaking too badly. He reaches out instinctively, steadying her hand with his own. He feels her exhale slowly and then key slides in. He squeezes her hand and lets go as she turns the lock and opens the door. 

She gives him a quick, grateful smile, and then leads the way into the house. Mike turns to glance at Steve, who’s gripping onto his bat just in case. Mike’s glad he’s there, even if he’d probably never say it aloud. Way too weird. 

They follow Max into the little house, Mike taking note of the lack of pictures and decor. There’s nothing warm and inviting about the place, and it doesn’t even feel lived in, which he supposes all makes sense. 

He glances at Steve again, taking in the troubled expression on the older teen’s face, and then following Max’s path down the hall and standing beside her. After a moment, she reaches out and pushes the door open, flipping on the light above and stepping inside. 

All the air leaves Mike’s lungs as he observes the state of her bedroom. There’s a lamp shattered on the floor, blood smeared above the lightswitch. The comforter on the bed is strewn half off the mattress and onto the floor, like someone had dragged her from the bed kicking and screaming. His stomach turns at the realization that they probably had. 

Max says nothing as she makes her way to her closet and opens the doors, grabbing her backpack off the floor and hauling it over to her bed. 

He hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath as he gets his first look at her room and he hears a whispered “son of a bitch,” under the teen’s breath. 

“Max? Can we help?” Mike asks, stepping forward, shoes crunching on the broken glass. 

The redhead glances at him over her shoulder, looking hesitant in a way she so rarely does. “Can you get my pictures off the desk?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He’s glad for something to do. He hates the feeling of helplessness when someone he cares about is hurting or in trouble and he’s left with nothing to do and no way to help. He picks up the three picture frames on her desk -- one a framed photo of her and a man he doesn’t recognize but assumes is her dad, another of the party at the Snowball, and a third of her with her mom. He carefully stacks them together and carries them over to her. 

“I think my radio’s still under the bed,” she tells him as she starts pulling clothes out of the dresser and shoving them in her bag. 

“I can make a trip to the car with stuff,” Steve offers, and she gives him a small, tense smile before loading his arms up with a pile of clothes. 

Mike crawls under the bed on his hands and knees and retrieves her radio, gaze landing on the other item there. He reaches out and grabs it, too, setting both items up on the bed and staring at the skateboard for a moment, noticing for the first time the thick gray tape wound around part of it. “He broke your board, too?” 

Max pauses, gaze dropping to where he’s staring. “No. That was Billy, actually,” she admits. 

“Dick,” he mutters, disgusted with her entire family. 

She almost smiles. Almost. “We’re definitely a far cry from the Brady Bunch.” She’s quiet for a moment, pulling out a few more things and piling them on her bed -- a couple of worn out books, a blue-hooded sweatshirt that’s nowhere warm enough for a winter in Hawkins, a pair of sneakers. 

“I think this is everything. I don’t care about the rest.” She zips up her book bag, which he reaches for wordlessly, picking it up along with the picture frames and radio. He keeps his eyes on her as she picks up her board and the rest of her clothes. He follows her out the door and down the hall. Instead of turning into the living room, though, she makes a right and steps into the dining room. 

He watches as she reaches into her pocket once more and grasps onto her house key, holding it in her hand for a moment and then setting it down on the dining room table. He searches her face, sees the resolve there, and she meets his eyes. There’s finality in her voice when she speaks. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the end of this one. It's pretty short but it felt finished to me. <3 Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

Max is exhausted by the time that Lucas pulls her aside that night. He’s been unusually quiet all through their time at the arcade with the others, and now, as they help clear off the Wheeler’s kitchen table from dinner. 

“Hey, can we talk?” 

She glances over her shoulder at him as she rinses off her plate and carefully adds it to the side of the sink with soapy water. “Sure.” She’s pretty sure she knows what this is about. She lets him lead the way out of the house and onto the front porch. She wraps her arms around herself as the chilly wind sweeps over them. 

Lucas doesn’t seem bothered though. Then again, he’s used to this kind of climate. Max isn’t sure she ever will be. She sits down on the top stair, shoulders tense. “You lied to me.” His voice is quiet. 

She holds her breath before crossing the porch to sit down beside him on the stoop. “Yeah,” she admits, staring into the distance. 

“Do you not trust me?” 

“Lucas, that’s not what this was about.” 

“Then explain it to me, Max. Because I don’t understand.” His voice is quiet, hurt. 

Max closes her eyes. “If I’d told you, you would have either tried talking me out of it or insisting on coming with me.” 

“Well, yeah. Like Mike did.” 

“Mike wasn’t part of my plan. Neither was Steve.” 

“So you were just going to go by yourself?” He looks at her, expression troubled.

“It seemed like the best plan at the time,” she says, looking down at her shoes. 

“No offense, Mad Max, but your strategy skill set isn’t that off the charts.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m a doer, not a planner.” 

“Which is why you need us,” he tells her, nudging her gently with his elbow. 

“You’re right.” She leans into him when he hesitantly drapes his arm around her shoulders. “I haven’t had any friends since I was ten and my mom married Neil,” she whispers. “I couldn’t risk having friends over. Between Billy being himself and never knowing when Neil was going to lash out at someone --” 

Lucas’ arm tightens around her a little and she’s grateful for the silent gesture of support. 

“It just wasn’t safe. So I learned how to skateboard, and I started spending my free time at the arcade so I could stay out of the house as much as possible.” 

Max is quiet for a long moment. “I’m so used to having to keep my mouth shut, to not talking to anyone about the stuff that matters...I’m not good at it. But I’m trying.” 

“I know,” he murmurs. 

“Just, bear with me, okay? I know I messed up. That I _am_ messed up --” 

“No. Hey. No,” he says, pulling away to look at her as she wipes at her eyes absently. “You’re not messed up. There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

She ducks her head. “I’m not so sure. My head’s just a jumbled mess all the time these days.” She lets out a shaky breath. 

“A lot’s happened, Max. It isn’t you,” he says gently, reaching out and taking her hand. “You’ve gotta give yourself time.” 

She nods, looking down at their hands. 

“You’re not alone anymore. You belong with us,” he says, squeezing her fingers.

“I think it’s just...going to take me a little while to get used to that,” she confesses. She’s never had a place where she truly felt like she fit in, where she truly belonged. At least until now. Now she sees the potential here, with Lucas and the others. 

“That’s okay.” He lifts his free hand to her cheek, careful not to put any pressure on her bruises. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

Max meets his eyes, the anxiety that was twisting her stomach settling in the warmth she finds there. She leans in and presses her lips against his in a soft kiss, resting her head on his shoulder a moment later. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess we do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've spent the last nearly three months writing this. I haven't written a multi-chaptered fic on my own in literal years and getting back into it was sort of exhilarating. It was also difficult at times because domestic violence and child abuse are heavy subjects to deal with. That said, if you are involved in a relationship that involves domestic violence, there IS help out there. Call the National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1−800−799−7233. Or if you want to send me a message I'll try and help you find a local center near you.
> 
> Feedback and comments are SO appreciated.


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